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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 

1980 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibllographiques 


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n 

D 
D 
D 


D 


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n 
□ 

n 
n 

D 
D 


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D 


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10X 


c 


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Ce  document  est  filmd  au  taux  de  r6duction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 

leX  22X 


14X 


26X 


30X 


^ 


E 


12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


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g6n6rosit6  de: 

Bibliothdque  nationale  du  Canada 


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d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — »-  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  &  des  taux  de  r6duction  diff6rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  etre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film6  S  partir 
de  Tangle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 


32X 


"HE  WATCHUD  THR  ROHUHH  AND  Ills  VICTIM   HIDE  QUIETLY 
AWAY."     Pa , ire  1  (■.•.'.     [Fru„f;sj,:rn:\ 


I 
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Ckarlie  toL  Ues(iui%., ,  . 


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AUTIIOn    0 

CiAKDEN 

"UKD 


33 


CIIAPtLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE 


A  TALE  OF  THE  SEA  AND   THE  KOCKIE 


lES 


BY  K.    M.   BALLANTYNE, 

AUTIIOn    OF    "blown    to    Bitc!-"    x-rr, 

o^nvmr  "BLUE  uonron  nor  wonKr  ''''''"  =  "   "™"   "^"'^'^^   ^^°    ™= 

"RKD   ROONEy;"    "THK    KOV    ,  "'^    SOLDAN  ;  "    ".HE    FUOIT,  VKS  ;  " 

BOILKH,      "POST  kaste;"  "black  ivokv;-   "t,1K 
iuoN  house; -..,., o,mxGT„,.:p,AMKs;" 

THE   MFEBOAT;"    Ere.    ETC. 


SSlith  Ilhi8tratiou0  ijj  the  ^xnh 


or. 


NEW  YORK: 
THOMAS   NELSON  &   SONS, 

83  EAST   17th  STREET,    UNION  «(^UARE, 

18  9  0. 


C53 


PEEFACR 

Having  got  nothing  prefatorial  to  say,  I  avail 
myself  of  this  blank  page  to  say  so. 

E.  M.  B. 


Harrow,  1890. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP,   r.— INTUODUCES  TflE  HERO, 
if.— THE  SHirWHECK, 
m.--IT"8  AN  ILL   WIND  THAT  BLAWS  XAEBODY  aUID,"   , 
n-.— DRIFTING  ON   THE   HOCKS, 
v.— ALL  THINGS  TO   ALL  MKN  ' 

'       '  *  •  •  • 

VL-DISASTKR,   STARVATION,    AND  DKATH, 
Vn.— ADRIFT  ON  THK  SEA, 
Vin.— INGRATITUDE, 

IX. -SHANK    REVKALS     SOMETHING     MORE    OF     H/S    CHAR- 
ACTER,   .... 

•  •  • 

X. -HOME-COMING  AND   UNEXPECTED   SURPRISES, 

XI.-TELLS      OK      HAPPY      MEETINGS     AND     SERIOUS     CON- 
SULTATIONS 

XIL— CHANGES  THE  SCENE  CONSIDERABLY! 
Xin.~HUNKV  BEN  IS  SORELY  PERPLEXED, 
XrV.— THE   HAUNT  01-"  THE  OUTLAWS, 


PAGE 
1 

12 

35 

48 

64 

75 

84 

96 

102 
116 

129 
142 
155 
163 


m 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


XV.— LOST    \ND  FOUND, 


rxoK 
.      175 


XVJ.— KIUBNDS     AND      FOKS— PLOTS     AND     COUNTEnPLOTS— 

THK  RANCH   IN  DANOEH 186 

XVIL— THE   ALARM  AND  PREPARATIONS   FOR  DEFENCE,  .  198 

XVIII.— DEFKNCE  OK  THK  RANCH   OF   ROARINO  BULL,      .  .  208 

XIX.— THK  RKSCUE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES,  ...  221 


XX.— JAKK  THE  FLINT  IN  bIFFICULTIES,     . 


232 


XXI.— TELLS    OF    A    CRUEL    DEED,    AND    SHO'V'S     HOW    MYS- 
TERIOUSLY  IIUNKY  BKN  BEHAVED,  .  .  .242 

XXII.— THK    CAVE     OF    THE    OUTLAWS    INVADED    BY    GHOSTS 

AND  U.S.    TROOPS, 255 

XXIII.— THE     TROOPS    OUTWITTED     »V     THE    SCOUT    AND     HIS 

FRIENDS, 268 

XXIV.— THK  MKETINO  OP  OLD  FRIENDS  IN  CURIOUS  CIRCUM- 
STANCES,         275 

XXV.— SHOWS   HOW  THE  SEAMAN  WAS   SENT  ON   A  DELICATE 

MISSION  AND   HOW   HE  FARED,       ....        287 

XXVI.— TREATS     OF     VARIOUS     INTERESTING     MATTERS,     AND 

TELLS   OF  NEWS  FROM   HOME,  ....         306 

XXVII.— HUNKY   BKN  AND   CHARLIE  GET  BEYOND  THEIR  DEPTH, 

AND  BUCK   TOM  GETS  BEYOND   RECALL,  .  .        323 

XXVIII. — CHASE,    CAPTURE,   AND  END  OF  JAKK  THE   FLINT,  .        332 

XXIX. — THEY  RETURN  TO  THE  RANCH  OF  ROARING  BULL, 
WHERE  SOMETHING  SKRIOUS  HAPPENS  TO  DICK 
DARVALL, 349 


CONTKNTS. 


Vll 

i'A(ih; 


XXX.— CHANOKH     TIIK     SCKM'      .SOMKWHAT     VIOI.KNTLY     AND 

SHOWS  OUR   HEHO   IS   A    NKW   l.UlllT,    .  ,  .        ygO 


XXXI.— PAILURK   AND  A   NKW  SC'KNT, 
XXXII.— SUCCESS  AND  FUTURE  I'LANS,       . 
XXXni.- SWEETWATER  BLUFF,    . 
XXXIV.— THE  LAST, 


a78 
'Mi 
406 
113 


m  JM.:  I  Mxt..i 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTEATIONS. 


VIGNETTE  TIT1.E. 

"  HE  WATCHED  THE  ROBBER  AND  HIS  VICTIM 

RIDE  QUIETLY  AWAY "  (p.  162),       .  Frontispiece 

.'  0  GOD  !  CAN  IT  BE  TRUE?"        .        •   M'^^'O  P^r^  1'** 

-NOW,  BUTTERCUP,  GIVE  IT  'EM-HOT,"  .        .      217 

"AND  RAN  TO  THE  OPENING  WHERE  HE  SAW 

THE  TROOPERS  STILL  RIDING  ABOUT,"       .       '272 

"AMMUNITION'S  GETTING  LOW,"  SAID  DICK,        304 


piece 

e  174 

217 


272 


304 


CHARLIE   TO   THE  RESCUE 

A  TALE  OP  THE  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES 


CHAPTEE   I. 

INTRODUCES  THE  HERO. 

To  be  generally  helpful  was  one  of  the  chief 
points  in  the  character  of  Charlie  Brooke. 

He  was  evidently  born  to  aid  mankind  He 
began  by  helping  himself  to  everything  in  life  that 
semed  at  all  desirable.  This  was  natural,  not 
selfish. 

At  first  there  were  few  things,  apparently,  that 
«Iid  seem  to  his   infant  mind  desiiable,  for  his 
earliest   days  were  marked    by  a  sort   of  chronic 
crossness  that  seemed  quite  unaccountable  in  one 
so  healthy;  but  this  was  eventually  traced  to  tlie 
influence  of  pins  injudiciously  disposed  about  the 
person  by  nurse.    Possibly  this  experience  may  Imve 
tended  to  develop  a  spirit  of  brave  endurance,  and 
"light  perhaps  account  for  the  beautiful  modifica- 
tions  ol  character  that  were  subsequently  observed 
111  lum.    At  all  events,  sweet,  patient  amiability 


2  CILVULIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 

was  a  prevailing  feature  in  the  boy  long  before  the 
years  of  infancy  were  over,  and  this  heavenly  aspect 
of  him  was  pleasantly  diversified,  in  course  of  time, 
by  occasional  displays  of  resolute — we  might  almost 
say  heroic  —  self-will,  which  proved  a  constant 
source  of  mingled  pride  and  alarm  to  his  widowed 
mother. 

From  a  very  early  period  of  life  little  Charlie 
manifested  an  intense  desire,  purpose,  and  capacity 
for  what  may  be  called  his  life-work  of  rescuing 
human  beings  from  trouble  and  danger.  It  became 
a  passion  with  him  as  years  rolled  on,  and  was 
among  the  chief  means  that  brought  about  the 
changes  in  his  chequered  career. 

Appropriately  enough  he  began — almost  in  baby- 
hood— by  rescuing  himself ! 

It  happened  thus.  One  day,  when  he  had  reached 
the  immature  age  of  five,  he  was  left  in  the  nursery 
for  a  few  moments  in  company  with  a  wash-tub,  in 
which  his  mother  had  been  cleansing  the  household 
linen. 

Mrs.  Brooke,  it  may  be  remarked,  although  in  tlie 
middle  ranks  of  life,  was  very  much  below  the 
middle  ranks  in  financial  prosperity,  and  had  there- 
fore to  perform  much  household  drudgery. 

Charlie's  earnest  desire  to  please  and  obey  his 
mother  constantly  came  into  collision  with  that  self- 
will  to  which  we  have  referred.  Separately,  these 
qualities   may   perhaps   work   quietly,  at  least  as 


I 


I 


il 


I 


i 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES.  3 

regards  their  possessor,  but  unitedly  they  form  a 
mixture  which  is  apt  to  become  explosive  in  early 
youth. 

"Don't  touch   the   tub,   Charlie;    I'll   be   back 
directly,"  said  Mrs.  Brooke,  as  she  was  leaving  the 
nursery.     "  Don't  even  go  near  it." 
"No,  muvver,  I  won't." 

He  spoke  with  much  decision,  for  he  adored 
water— not  to  drink  but  to  play  with— and  seemed 
to  realise  the  danger  of  his  position,  and  the 
necessity  for  self-control. 

The  temptation  to  avail  himself  of  the  chance, 
however,  was  almost  too  much  for  him.  Feeling 
that  an  internal  conflict  was  pending,  he  toddled  to 
the  fire,  turned  his  back  to  it  d  la  paterfamilias, 
and  glared  at  the  tub,  resolved,  come  what  might,  to 
be  "dood."    But  fate  was  against  him ! 

Suddenly  he  became  aware  that  something  more 
than  radiated  heat  was  operating  in  rear.  He 
glanced  behind.  His  cotton  tunic  was  in  flames ! 
In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  he  was  seated  in  the 
wash-tub,  his  hands  clasped  in  horror  as  he  thought 
of  his  guilt,  and  the  flames  thoroughly  extinguished ! 
Tht  solemn  glare  and  pursed  mouth  with  which 
he  met  his  mother's  look  of  blank  amazement  may 
be  imagined  but  cannot  be  described— he  looked  so 
quiet,  too,  and  so  evidently  contented,  for  the  warm 
water  was  congenial ! 

"  0  Charlie !  did  I  not  say  that " 


I 


JHUM 


CIIARLTE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


"  Yes,  muvver,  but  I  'm  bu'nt." 

The  fearsome  and  dripping  black  patch  which 
presented  itself  to  the  agonised  mother  when  she 
lifted  him  out  of  the  tub  sufficiently  enlightened 
her  and  exonerated  the  child,  but  her  anxiety  was 
not  relieved  till  she  had  stripped  him  naked  and 
ascertained  for  certain  that  no  scrap  of  his  fair  skin 
had  been  injured. 

This  may  be  said  to  have  been  the  real  com- 
mencement of  Charlie  Brook's  career.  We  mention 
it  chiefly  to  show  that  our  hero  was  gifted  with 
some  power  of  ready  resource  even  in  childhood. 
He  \\  as  also  gifted  with  a  fearless  and  daring  dis- 
position, a  quietly  enthusiastic  spirit,  a  modest 
mien,  and  a  strong  muscular  body. 

Of  course  these  admirable  qualities  were  not  fully 
developed  in  childhood,  but  the  seeds  were  there. 
In  due  time  the  plants  came  up  and  the  flowers 
bloomed. 

We  would  here  caution  the  readtT — especially 
the  youthful  reader — against  supposing  that  from 
this  point  our  hero  was  engaged  in  rescue-work,  and 
continued  at  it  ever  after  without  intermission. 
Like  Samson,  with  his  great  strength,  he  exer- 
cised his  powers  only  now  and  then — more  than 
half  unconscious  of  what  was  in  him — and  on 
many  occasions  without  any  definite  purpose  in 
view. 

His  first  act   of   heroism   was   exercised,   when 


OF  TIIK  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


5 


he  had  readied  tlie  age  of  nine,  in   behalf   of  a 
kitten. 

It  was  on  a  magnificent  summer  day,  soon  after 
he  had  been  sent  to  the  village  school,  that  the 
incident  occurred.  Charlie  was  walking  at  the 
time  with  one  of  his  school-fellows  named  Shank 
Leather. 

Shank  was  a  little  older  than  himself,  and  a  good 
enough  fellow  in  his  way,  but  much  given  to  boast- 
ing, and  possessed  of  very  few  of  the  fine  qualities 
that  characterised  our  hero.  The  two  were  out  for 
a  holiday-ramble,  a  long  way  from  home,  and  had 
reached  a  river  on  the  banks  of  which  they  sat 
down  to  enjoy  their  mid-day  meal.  The  meal  was 
simple,  and  carried  in  their  pockets.  It  consisted  of 
two  inch-and-a-half-thick  slices  of  bread,  with  two 
lumps  of  cheese  to  match. 

"  I  wish  this  river  was  nearer  home,"  said  Shank 
Leather,  as  they  sat  down  under  a  spreading  oak  to 
dine. 

"  Why  ? "  asked  his  companion,  with  a  felicitous 
brevity  and  straightforwardness  which  occasionally 
marked  his  conversation. 

"Because  then  I  would  have  a  swim  in  it  everyday." 
"Can  you  swim  ?"  asked  Charlie,  a  slight  eleva- 
tion of  the  eyebrows  indicating  surprise  not  un- 
mingled  with  admiration—for  our  hero  was  a  hero- 
worshipper.  He  could  not  well  have  been  a  hero 
otherwise ! 


CIIAllLIE  TO  THK  llESCUK  :   A  TALE 


"  Of  course  I  can  swim,"  returned  Shank ;  "  that 
is  to  say,  a  little;  but  I  feel  sure  that  I'll  be  a 
splendid  swimmer  some  day." 

His  companion's  look  of  admiration  increased. 

"What '11  you  take  to  drink?"  asked  Shank, 
drawing  a  large  flask  from  the  pocket  in  which  he 
had  concealed  it  up  to  that  moment  with  the  express 
purpose  of  giving  his  companion  a  pleasant  surprise. 

It  may  be  well  to  add  that  the  variety  of 
drinks  implied  in  his  question  \*^as  imaginary. 
Shank  had  only  one  flask,  but  in  the  exuberance  of 
convivial  generosity  he  quoted  his  own  father — who 
was  addicted  to  "  the  bottle." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Brooke,  in  curious  expectancy. 

"  Taste  and  see,"  said  his  friend,  uncorking  the 
flask. 

Charlie  tasted,  but  did  not  "  see,"  apparently,  for 
he  looked  solemn,  and  tasted  again. 

"It's  liquorice-water,"  said  Shank,  with  the  look 
of  one  who  expects  approval.     "  I  made  it  myself ! " 

Nauseous  in  the  extreme,  it  might  have  served 
the  purpose  of  an  emetic  had  not  the  digestion  of 
the  boys  been  ostrich-like,  but,  on  hearing  how  it 
came  into  existence,  Charlie  put  it  a  third  time  to 
his  lips,  took  a  good  gulp,  and  then,  nodding  his 
head  as  he  wiped  his  mouth  with  his  cuff,  declared 
that  it  was  "  wonderful." 

"Yes,  isn't  it?  There's  not  many  fellows  could 
make  stuff  like  that." 


% 

■n 
1 

f 

I 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES.  7 

"  No,  indeed,"  assented  the  other  heartily,  as  he 
attacked  the  bread  and  cheese.  "  Does  your  father 
know  you  made  it  1 " 

"  Oh  yes,  and  he  tasted  it  too — he  'd  taste  any- 
thing in  the  shape  of  drink— but  he  spat  it  out,  and 
then  washed  his  mouth  with  brandy  an'  water. 
Mother  took  some  too,  and  she  said  she  had  tasted 
worse  drinks ;  and  she  only  wished  that  father 
would  take  to  it.  That  made  father  laugh  heartily. 
Then  I  gave  some  to  little  May,  and  she  said  it  was 
'  So  nice.' " 

"Ay.  That  was  like  little  May,"  remarked 
Charlie,  with  a  quiet  laugh;  "she'd  say  that  a 
mess  o'  tar  an'  shoe- blacking  was  nice  if  yotc  made 
it.  But  I  say.  Shank,  let's  see  you  swim.  I'd 
give  anything  if  I  could  swim.  Do,  like  a  brick 
as  you  are.  There 's  a  fine  deep  hole  here  under  the 
bank." 

He  pointed  to  a  pool  in  the  river  where  the 
gurgling  eddies  certainly  indicated  considerable 
depth  of  water,  but  his  friend  shook  his  head. 

•'No,  Charlie,"  he  said,  "you  don't  understand 
the  danger  as  I  do.  Don't  you  see  that  the  water 
runs  into  the  hole  at  such  a  rate  that  there's  a 
tree-mendous  eddy  that  would  sweep  any  man  off 
his  legs " 

"But  you're  goin'  to  swim,  you  know,"  inter- 
rupted his  friend,  "  an'  have  got  to  be  off  your  legs 
anyhow ! " 


8 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


"That's  all  yo%i  know,"  returned  the  other.  "If 
a  man 's  swept  round  by  an  eddy,  don't  you  know, 
he  '11  be  banged  against  things,  and  then  the  water 
rushes  out  of  the  hole  with  such  a  gush,  an'  goes 
thunderin'  down  below,  over  boulders  and  stones, 
and — an' — don't  you  see  1 " 

"  That 's  true,  Shank ;  it  does  look  dangerous,  even 
for  a  man  that  can  swim." 

He  put  such  emphasis  on  the  "man"  that  his 
comrade  glanced  sharply  at  him,  but  the  genuine 
innocence  of  our  hero's  face  was  too  obvious  to 
suggest  irony.  He  simply  saw  that  the  use  of  the 
word  man  pleased  his  friend,  therefore  he  used  it. 

Conversation  was  cut  short  at  this  point  by  the 
sudden  appearance  on  the  scene  of  two  strangers — 
a  kitten  and  a  do^r. 

The  assertion  that  "dogs  delight  to  bark  and 
bite"  is,  perhaps,  too  sweeping,  but  then  it  was 
made  by  a  poet,  and  poets  have  an  acknowledged 
licence — though  not  necessarily  a  dog-licence. 
Certain  it  is,  however,  that  this  dog — a  mongrel  cur 
— did  bark  with  savage  delight,  and  display  all 
its  teeth,  with  an  evident  desire  to  bite,  as  it 
chased  a  delirious  tortoise-shell  kitten  towards  the 
river. 

It  was  a  round,  soft,  lively  kitten,  with  the  hair 
on  its  little  body  sticking  straight  out,  its  heart  in 
its  mouth,  and  horror  in  its  lovely  eyes.  It  made 
straight  for  the  tree  under  which  the  dinner  Avas 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  TFIE  ROCKIES. 


9 


going  on.  Both  boys  started  up.  Enemies  in  front 
and  rear !  Even  a  human  general  might  have  stood 
appalled.  Two  courses  were  still  open — right  and 
left.  The  kitten  turned  right  and  went  wrong,  for 
that  was  the  river-side.  No  time  for  thought ! 
Barking  cur  and  yelling  boys!  It  reached  the 
edge  of  the  pool,  spread  out  all  its  legs  with  a 
catterwaul  of  despair,  and  went  headlong  into  the 
water. 

Shank  Leather  gazed — something  like  glee  min- 
gled with  his  look  of  consternation.  Not  so  our 
hero.  Pity  was  bursting  his  bosom.  With  one 
magnificent  bound  he  went  into  the  pool,  caught  the 
kitten  in  his  right  hand,  and  carried  it  straight  to 
the  bottom.  Next  moment  he  re-appeared  on  the 
surface,  wildly  beating  the  water  with  one  hand 
and  holding  the  kitten  aloft  in  the  other.  Shank, 
to  do  him  justice,  plunged  into  the  river  up  to  his 
waist,  but  his  courage  carried  him  no  further. 
There  he  stuck,  vainly  holding  out  a  hand  and 
shouting  for  help. 

But  no  help  was  near,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  pair 
of  strugglers  were  doomed  to  perish  when  a  pitiful 
eddy  swept  them  both  out  of  the  deep  pool  inco  the 
foaming  rapid  below.  Shank  followed  them  in 
howling  despair,  for  here  things  looked  ten  times 
worse:  his  comrade  being  tossed  from  billow  to 
breaker,  was  turned  heels  over  head,  bumped  against 
boulders,    stranded    on    shallows,    overturned   and 


10 


CIIAULIE  TO  TIIK  RESCUE :    A  TALE 


swept  away  again — but  ever  with  the  left  arm 
beating  wildly,  and  the  right  hand  with  the  kitten, 
held  high  in  air. 

But  the  danger,  except  from  being  dashed  against 
the  boulders,  was  not  really  as  great  as  it  seemed, 
for  every  time  that  Brooke  got  a  foothold  for  an 
instant,  or  was  driven  on  a  rock,  or  was  surged, 
right-end-up,  on  a  shoot  of  water,  he  managed  to 
gasp  a  little  air — including  a  deal  of  water.  The 
kitten,  of  course,  had  the  same  chances,  and,  being 
passive,  perhaps  suffered  less. 

At  the  foot  of  the  rapid  they  were  whirled,  as  if 
contemptuously,  into  an  eddy.  Shank  was  there,  as 
deep  as  he  dared  venture.  He  even  pushed  in  up  to 
the  arm-pits,  and,  catching  his  comrade  by  the  hair, 
dragged  him  to  bank. 

"  0  Charlie,  I  've  saved  ye ! "  he  exclaimed,  as 
his  friend  crawled  out  and  sat  down. 

"Ay,  an'  you've  saved  the  kitten  too !"  replied  his 
friend,  examining  the  poor  animal. 

"  It 's  dead,"  said  Shank ;  "  dead  as  mutton." 

"  No,  only  stunned.     No  wonder,  poor  beast ! " 

With  tender  care  the  rescuer  squeezed  the  water 
from  the  fur  of  the  rescued.  Then,  pulling  open  his 
vest  and  shirt,  he  was  about  to  place  the  kitten  in 
his  bosom  to  warm  it. 

"  No  use  doin'  -that,"  said  Leather.  *'  You  're  as 
wet  an'  nigh  as  cold  as  itself." 

"  That 's  true.     Sit  down  here,"  returned  Brooke, 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  IIOCKIES. 


11 


got 


ill  a  tone  of  command  which  surprised  his  comrade. 
"  Open  your  shirt." 

Again  Shank  obeyed  wonderingly.  Next  moment 
he  gave  a  gasp  as  the  cold,  wet  creature  was  thrust 
into  his  warm  bosom. 

"  It  makes  me  shiver  all  over,"  lie  said. 

"Never  mind,"  replied  his  friend  coolly,  as  he 
up  and  wrung  the  water  out  of  his  own 
garments. 

"It's  beginning  to  move,  Charlie,"  said  Shank, 
after  a  few  minutes. 

"  Give  it  here,  then." 

The  creature  was  indeed  showing  feeble  symptoms 
of  revival,  so  Brooke— who.ie  bosom  was  not  only 
recovering  its  own  heat,  but  was  beginning  to  warm 
the  wet  garments— thrust  it  into  his  own  breast,  and 
the  two  friends  set  off  homeward  at  a  run. 

At  the  nearest  house  they  made  inquiry  as  to  the 
owner  of  the  kitten,  but  failed  to  find  one.  Our 
hero  therefore  resolved  to  carry  it  home.  Long 
before  that  haven  was  reached,  however,  his  clothes 
were  nearly  dry,  and  the  rescued  one  was  purring 
sweetly,  in  childlike  innocence— all  the  horrors, 
sufferings,  and  agonies  of  the  past  forgotten,  appar- 
ently, in  the  enjoyment  of  the  present. 


I 


12 


CHAI!LIE  TO  THE  IlESCUE  :   A  TALK 


CHAPTEIl   11. 


'U 


THi;  8HIPWKECK 


We  have  no  intention  of  carrying  onr  reader  on 
step  by  step  through  all  the  adventures  and  deeds 
of  Charlie  Brooke.  It  is  necessary  to  hasten  over 
his  boyhood,  leaving  untold  the  many  battles  fought, 
risks  run,  and  dangers  encountered. 

He  did  not  cut  much  of  a  figure  at  the  village 
school — though  he  did  his  best,  and  was  fairly 
successful  —  but  in  the  playground  he  reigned 
supreme.  At  football,  cricket,  gymnastics,  and, 
ultimately,  at  swimming,  no  one  could  come  near 
him.  This  was  partly  owing  to  his  great  physical 
strength,  for,  as  time  passed  by  he  shot  upwards 
and  outwards  in  a  way  that  surprised  his  com- 
panions and  amazed  his  mother,  who  was  a  dis- 
tinctly little  woman — a  neat  graceful  little  woman 
— with,  like  her  stalwart  son,  a  modest  opinion  of 
herself. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  Charlie's  school-fellows  al- 
most worshipped  him,  and  he  was  always  so  willing 
to  help  and  lead  them  in  all  cases  of  danger  or 


OF  THE  &EA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


13 


emergency,  that  "  Charlie  to  the  rescue  ! "  became 
quite  a  familiar  cry  on  the  jlayground.  Indeed  it 
would  have  been  equally  appropriate  in  the  school, 
for  the  lad  never  seemed  to  be  ao  thoroughly 
happy  as  when  he  was  assisting  some  boy  less 
capable  than  himself  to  master  his  lessons. 

About  the  time  that  Charlie  left  school,  while 
yet  a  stripling,  he  had  the  shoulders  of  Samson,  the 
chest  of  Hercules,  and  the  limbs  of  Apollo.  He 
was  tall  also — over  six  feet — but  his  unusual  breadth 
deceived  people  as  to  this  till  they  stood  close  to 
liim.  Fair  hair,  close  and  curly,  witli  bright  blue 
eyes  and  a  permanent  look  of  grave  benignity,  com- 
pletes our  description  of  him. 

Eowing,  shooting,  fishing,  boxing,  and  swimming 
seem6d  to  come  naturally  to  him,  and  all  cf  them 
in  a  superlative  degree.  Swimming  was,  perhaps, 
his  most  loved  amusement,  and  in  this  art  he  soon 
far  outstripped  his  friend  Leather.  Some  men  are 
endowed  with  exceptional  capacities  in  regard  to 
water.  We  have  seen  men  go  into  the  sea  warm 
and  come  out  warmer,  even  in  cold  weather.  Ex- 
perience teaches  that  the  reverse  is  usually  true 
of  mankind  in  northern  regions,  yet  we  once  saw 
a  man  enter  the  sea  to  all  appearance  a  white 
human  being,  after  remaining  in  it  upwards  of  an 
hour,  and  swimming  away  from  shore,  like  a  vessel 
outward  bound,  he  came  back  at  last  the  colour 
of  a  boiled  lobster ! 


14 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:   A  TALE 


! 


Such  exceptional  qualities  did  Charlie  Brooke 
possess.  A  South  Sea  Islander  might  have  envied 
but  could  not  have  excelled  him. 

It  was  these  qualities  that  decided  the  course  of 
his  career  just  after  he  left  school. 

"Charlie,"  said  his  mother,  as  they  sat  eating 
their  raid-day  meal  alone  one  day — the  mother 
being,  as  we  have  said,  a  widow,  and  Charlie  an 
only  child — "  what  do  you  think  of  doing,  now  that 
you  have  left  school  ?  for  you  know  my  income 
renders  it  impossible  that  I  should  send  you  to 
college." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think,  mother.  Of  course 
I  intend  to  do  something.  If  you  had  only  in- 
fluence with  some  one  in  power  who  could  enable  a 
fellow  to  get  his  foot  on  the  first  round  of  any  sort 
of  ladder,  something  might  be  done,  for  you  know 
I'm  not  exactly  useless,  though  I  can't  boast  of 
brilliant  talents,  but " 

"  Your  talents  are  brilliant  enough,  Charlie,"  said 
his  mother,  interrupting ;  "  besides,  you  have  been 
sent  into  this  world  for  a  purpose,  and  you  may  be 
sure  that  you  will  discover  what  that  purpose  is, 
and  receive  help  to  carry  it  out  if  you  only  ask  God 
to  guide  you.  Not  otherwise,"  she  added,  after  a 
pause. 

"Do  you  really  believe,  mother,  that  every  one 
who  is  born  into  the  world  is  sent  for  a  purpose, 
and  with  a  specific  work  to  do?" 


II 


i 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  POCKIES. 


15 


"I  do  indeed,  Cliarlio." 

"  What !  all  the  cripples,  invalids,  imbeciles,  even 
the  very  infants  who  are  born  to  wail  out  their  sad 
lives  in  a  few  weeks,  or  even  days  ?" 

"  Yes— all  of  them,  without  exception.  To  sup- 
pose the  opposite,  and  imagine  that  a  wise,  loving, 
and  almighty  Being  would  create  anything  for  710 
purpose  seems  to  me  the  very  essence  of  absurdity. 
Our  only  difficulty  is  that  we  do  not  always  see  the 
purpose.  All  things  are  ours,  but  we  must  ask  if 
we  would  have  them." 

"But  I  have  asked, mother,"  3aid  the  youth,  with 
an  earnest  flush  on  his  brow.  "  You  know  I  have 
done  so  often,  yet  a  way  has  not  been  opened  up. 
I  believe  in  yo2ir  faitli,  mother,  but  I  don't  quite 
believe  in  my  own.  There  surely  must  be  some- 
thing wrong— a  screw  loose  somewhere." 

He  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  looked  out 

at  the  window  with  a  wistful,  perplexed  expression. 

"How  I  wish,"  he  continued,  "  that  the  lines  had 

been  laid  down  for  the  human  race  more  distinctly, 

so  that  we  could  not  err !  " 

"And  yet,"  responded  his  mother,  with  a  peculiar 
look,  "such  lines  as  are  obviously  laid  down  we 
don't  always  follow.  For  instance,  it  is  written, 
'Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you,'  and  we  stop  there, 
but  the  sentence  does  not  stop :  '  Seek,  and  ye  shall 
find '  implies  care  and  trouble;  'Knock,  and  it  shall  be 
opened  unto  you '  hints  at  perseverance,  does  it  not?" 


i 


16 


GIIAllLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


"  There 's  something  in  that,  mother,"  said  Charlie, 
casting  another  wistful  glance  out  of  the  window. 
"  Come,  I  will  go  out  and  '  seek ' !  I  see  Shank 
Leather  waiting  for  me.  We  agreed  to  go  to  the 
shore  together,  for  we  both  like  to  watch  the  waves 
roaring  in  on  a  breezy  day  like  this." 

The  youth  rose  and  began  to  encase  his  bulky 
frame  in  a  great  pilot-cloth  coat,  each  button  of 
which  might  have  done  duty  as  an  afternoon  tea- 
saucer. 

"I  wish  you  would  choose  any  companion  to 
walk  with  but  young  Leather,"  said  the  widow,  with 
a  sigh.  "  He 's  far  too  like  his  father  to  do  you  any 
good." 

''Mother,  would  you  have  me  give  up  an  old 
playmate  and  school-fellow  because  he  is  not  per- 
fect?" asked  the  youth  in  grave  tones  as  lie  tied  on 
a  sou'wester. 

"  Well,  no — not  exactly,  but ." 

Not  having  a  good  reason  ready,  the  worthy 
woman  only  smiled  a  remonstrance.  The  stalwart 
son  stooped,  kissed  her  and  was  soon  outside,  battling 
with  the  storm — for  what  he  styled  a  breezy  day 
was  in  reality  a  wild  and  stormy  one. 

Long  before  the  period  we  have  now  reached 
Mrs.  Brooke  had  changed  her  residence  to  the  sea- 
coast  in  the  small  town  of  Sealford.  Her  cottage 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  village,  about  half-a-niile 
from  the  shore,  and  close  to  that   of  her  bosom 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


17 


friend,  Mrs.  Leather,  wlio  had  migrated  along  with 
her,  partly  to  be  near  her  and  partly  for  the  sake 
of  her  son  Shank,  who  was  anxious  to  retain 
the  companionship  of  his  friend  Brooke.  Partly, 
also,  to  get  her  tippling  husband  away  from  old 
comrades  and  scenes,  in  the  faint  hope  that  she 
might  rescue  him  from  the  great  curse  of  his  life. 

When  Charlie  went  out,  as  we  have  said,  he 
found  that  Shank  had  brought  his  sister  May  with 
him.  This  troubled  our  hero  a  good  deal,  for  he 
had  purposed  having  a  confidential  talk  with  his 
old  comrade  upon  future  plans  and  prospects,  to  the 
accompaniment  of  the  roaring  sea,  and  a  third  party 
was  destructive  of  such  intention.  Besides,  poor 
May,  although  exceedingly  unselfish  and  sweet  and 
good,  was  at  that  transition  period  of  life  when  girl- 
hood is  least  attractive — at  least  to  young  men : 
when  bones  are  obtrusive,  and  angles  too  con- 
spicuous, and  the  form  generally  is  too  suggestive 
of  flatness  and  longitude ;  while  shyness  marks  the 
manners,  and  inexperience  dwarfs  the  mind.  Wc 
would  not,  however,  suggest  for  a  moment  that  May 
was  ugly.  By  no  means,  but  she  had  indeed 
reached  what  may  be  styled  a  plain  period  of  life — 
a  period  in  which  some  girls  become  silently  sheep- 
ish, and  others  tomboyish;  May  was  among  the 
former,  and  therefore  a  drag  upon  conversation. 
But,  after  all,  it  mattered  little,  for  the  rapidly 
increasing  gale  rendered  speech  nearly  impossible. 


18 


CHARLIE  TO  TIIK  UESCUK  :   A  TALE 


"  It 's  too  wild  a  day  for  you,  May,"  said  Brooke, 
as  he  shook  hands  with  her ;  "  I  wonder  yon  care  to 
be  out." 

*'  She  doesn't  care  to  be  out,  but  I  wanted  her  to 
come,  and  she 's  a  g(jod  obh'ging  girl,  so  she  came," 
said  Shank,  drawing  her  arm  through  his  as  they 
pressed  forw,  rd  against  the  blast  in  the  direction  of 
the  shore. 

Shank  Leather  had  become  a  sturdy  young  fellow 
by  that  time,  but  was  niMch  shorter  than  his  friend. 
There  was  about  him,  however,  an  unmistakable 
look  of  dissipation — or,  rathei',  the  beginning  of  it — 
which  accounted  lor  Mrs.  Brooke's  objection  to  him 
as  a  companion  for  her  son. 

We  have  said  that  the  cottage  lay  about  half-a- 
mile  from  the  shore,  whicii  could  be  reached  by  a 
winding  lane  between  high  banks.  These  effectually 
shut  out  the  view  of  the  sea  until  one  was  close  to 
it,  though,  at  certain  times,  the  roar  of  the  waves 
could  be  heard  even  in  Sealford  itself. 

Such  a  time  was  the  present,  for  the  gale  had 
lashed  the  sea  into  wildest  fury,  and  not  only  did 
the  three  friends  hear  it,  as,  with  bent  heads,  they 
forced  their  way  against  the  wind,  but  they  felt  the 
foam  of  ocean  on  their  faces  as  it  was  carried  inland 
sometimes  in  lumps  and  flakes.  At  last  they  came 
to  the  end  of  the  lane,  and  the  sea,  lashed  to  its 
wildest  condition,  lay  before  them  like  a  sheet  of 
tortured  foam. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


19 


"Grand!  isn't  it?"  said  Brooke,  stopping  and 
drawing  himself  up  for  a  moment,  as  if  with  a 
desire  to  combat  the  opposing  elements. 

If  May  Leather  could  not  speak,  she  could  at 
all  events  gaze,  for  she  had  superb  brown  eyes, 
and  they  glittered,  just  then,  like  glowing  coals, 
while  a  wealth  of  rippling  brown  hair  was  blown 
from  its  fastenings,  and  flew   straight  out  behind 

her. 

"Look!  look  there!"  sliouted  her  brother  with  a 
wild  expression,  as  he  pointed  to  a  part  of  the 
rocky  shore  where  a  vessel  was  dimly  seen  through 
the  drift. 

"She's  trying  to  weather  the  point,"  exclaimed 
Brooke,  clearing  the  moisture  from  his  eyes,  and 
endeavouring  to  look  steadily. 

"She'll  never  weather  it.  See!  the  fishermen 
are  following  her  alongshore,"  cried  young  Leather, 
dropping  his  sister's  arm,  and  bounding  away. 

"Oh!   don't   leave   me   behind,  Shank,"  pleaded 

May. 

Shank  was  beyond  recall,  but  our  hero,  who  had 
also  sprung  forward,  heard  the  pleading  voice  and 
turned  back. 

"  Here,  hook  on  to  me,"  he  cried  quickly,  for  he 
was  in  no  humour  to  delay. 

The  girl  grasped  his  arm  at  once,  and,  to  say 
truth,  she  was  not  much  of  a  hindrance,  lor, 
although    somewhat    inelegant,   as   we    have    said, 


20 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  IJESCUE  :    A  TALE 


she  was  lithe  as  a  lizard  and  fleet  as  a  young 
colt. 

A  few  minutes  brought  them  to  the  level  shore 
where  Brooke  left  May  to  shelter  herself  with  some 
lisher- women  behind  a  low  wall,  while  he  ran  along 
to  a  spot  where  a  crowd  of  fishermen  and  old  salts, 
enveloped  in  oil-skins,  were  discussing  the  situation 
as  they  leaned  against  the  shrieking  wind. 

"Will  she  weather  it,  Grinder,  think  you?"  he 
asked  of  an  elderly  man,  whose  rugged  features 
resembled  mahogany,  the  result  of  having  bid 
defiance  to  wind  and  weather  for  nigh  half  a  cen- 
tury. 

"  She  may,  Mr.  Brooke,  an'  she  mayn't,"  answered 
the  matter-of-fact  man  of  the  sea,  in  the  gruff  mono- 
tone with  which  he  would  have  summoned  all  hands 
to  close  reef  in  a  hurricane.  "  If  her  tackle  holds 
she  '11  do  it.     If  it  don't  she  won't." 

'*  We  've  sent  round  for  the  rocket,  anyhow,"  said 
a  smart  young  fisherman,  who  seemed  to  rejoice  in 
opposing  his  broad  chest  to  the  blast,  and  in  listen- 
ing to  the  thunder  of  the  waves  as  they  rolled  into 
the  exposed  bay  in  great  battalions,  chasing  each 
other  in  wild  tumultuous  fury,  as  if  each  were  bent 
on  being  first  in  the  mad  assault  upon  the  shore. 

"Has  the  lifeboat  coxswain  been  called?"  asked 
Charlie,  after  a  few  minutes'  silence,  for  the  voice  of 
contending  elements  was  too  great  to  render  con- 
verse easy  or  agreeable. 


il 


c><Mim^ 


0¥  THE  SEA  AND  THE  UOCKIES. 


21 


"Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  man  nearest  to  him, 
"  but  she  's  bin  called  to  a  wreck  in  Mussel  Bay, 
an'  that  brig  will  be  all  right  or  in  Davy  Jones's 
locker  long  afore  th'  lifeboat  'ud  fetch  round 
here," 

Silence  again  fell  on  the  group  as  they  gazed  out 
to  sea,  pushing  eagerly  down  the  beach  until  they 
were  ankle-deep  in  the  foam  of  each  expended 
wave ;  for  the  brig  was  by  that  time  close  on  the 
point  of  rocks,  staggering  under  more  sail  than  she 
could  carry  with  safety. 

"  She  *11  do  it  1"  exclaimed  the  smart  young  fisher- 
man, ready  to  cheer  with  enthusiastic  hope. 

"  Done  for !  Lost ! "  cried  one,  while  something 
like  a  groan  burst  from  the  others  as  they  saw  the 
brig's  topmasts  go  over  the  side,  and  one  of  her  sails 
blown  to  ribbons.  She  fell  away  towards  the  rocks 
at  once. 

Like  great  black  teeth  these  rocks  seemed  to 
leap  in  the  midst  of  the  foam,  as  if  longing  to  grasp 
the  ill-fated  vessel,  which  .ad,  indeed,  all  but 
weathered  the  dangerous  point,  and  all  might  have 
been  well  if  her  gear  had  only  held  ;  but  now,  as  if 
paralysed,  she  drifted  into  the  bay  where  certain 
destruction  awaited  her. 

Just  at  that  moment  a  great  cheer  arose,  for  the 
rocket-cart,  drawn  by  tl  e  men  of  the  Coast-Guard, 
was  seen  rattling  over  the  downs  towards  them. 

Anxiety  for  the  fate  of  the  doomed  brig  was  now 


99 


CHAT^LIK  TO  THE  IJESCUE  :    A  TALE 


* 


clianged  into  eager  hope  for  the  rescue  of  her  crew. 
The  fishermen  crowded  round  the  Coast- Guard  men 
as  they  ran  the  cart  close  down  to  the  water's  edge, 
and  some  of  them — specially  the  smart  young  fellow 
already  mentioned — made  eager  offer  of  their  ser- 
vices. Charlie  Brooke  stood  aloof,  looking  on  with 
profound  interest,  for  it  was  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  seen  the  Manby  rocket  apparatus  brought  into 
action.  He  made  no  hasty  offer  to  assist,  for  he 
was  a  cool  youth — even  while  burning  with  im- 
patient enthusiasm — and  saw  at  a  glance  that  the 
men  of  the  Coast-Guard  were  well  able  to  manage 
their  own  affairs  and  required  no  aid  from  him. 

As  the  brig  was  coming  straight  in  they  could 
easily  calculate  where  she  would  strike,  so  that  the 
rocket  men  could  set  up  their  triangle  and  arrange 
their  tackle  without  delay.  This  was  fortunate,  for 
the  wreck  was  carried  shoreward  with  great  rapidity. 
She  struck  at  last  when  within  a  short  distance  of 
the  beach,  and  the  faces  of  those  on  board  could  be 
distinctly  seen,  and  their  cries  heard,  as  both  masts 
snapped  off  and  were  swept  over  the  side,  where  they 
tore  at  the  shrouds  like  wild  creatures,  or  charged 
the  hulk  like  battering-rams.  Instantly  the  billows 
that  had  borne  the  vessel  on  their  crests  burst  upon 
her  sides,  and  spurted  high  in  air  over  her,  falling 
back  on  her  deck,  and  sweeping  off  everything  that 
was  moveable.  It  could  be  seen  that  only  three  or 
four  men  were  on  deck,  and  these  keot'.  well  under 


1 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


the  lee  of  the  bulwarks  near  the  stem  where  they 
were  strongest. 

"  No  passengers,  I  think,"  said  one  of  the  fisher- 
men ;  "  no  women,  anyhow." 

"  Not  likely  they  'd  be  'lowed  on  deck  even  if 
there  was,"  growled  Grinder,  in  his  monotone. 

"  Now,  then,  out  o'  the  way,"  cried  tlie  leader  of 
the  Coast-Guard  men,  as  he  laid  a  rocket  in  its 
place.     "  Line  all  clear,  Fred  ? " 

"  All  clear." 

Next  moment  there  was  a  burst  of  flame,  a 
crash,  and  a  vicious  whizz  as  the  powerful  projectile 
leaped  from  its  stand  and  sped  out  to  sea,  in  grand 
defiance  of  the  opposing  gale,  with  its  light  line 
behind  it. 

A  cheer  marked  its  flight,  but  a  groan  told  of  its 
descent  into  the  boiling  sea,  considerably  to  the  left 
of  the  wreck. 

"  What  a  pity  ! "  cried  Shank  Leather,  who  had 
come  close  to  his  friend  when  the  rocket-cart 
arrived. 

"  No  matter,"  said  Brooke,  whose  compressed  lips 
and  flashing  eyes  told  of  deep  but  suppressed 
feelings.     "  There  are  more  rockets." 

He  was  right.  While  he  was  speaking,  another 
rocket  was  placed  and  fired.  It  was  well  directed, 
but  fell  short.  Another,  and  yet  another,  rose  and 
fell,  but  failed  to  reach  its  mark,  and  the  remainder 
of  the  rockets  refused  to  go  off  from  some  unkiiow)i 


24 


CHAULIE  TO  TIIK  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


cause — either  because  they  had  beeu  too  long   in 
stock  or  had  become  damp. 

Meantime  the  brig  was  tossed  farther  and  farther 
in,  until  she  stuck  quite  fast.  Then  it  became 
evident  that  she  must  soon  break  up,  and  her  crew 
perish.  Hasty  plans  and  eager  advice  were  pro- 
posed and  given.  Then  the  smart  young  fisherman 
suddenly  sprang  forward,  and  threw  off'  his  oil-coat 
and  sou'wester. 

"  Here  !  hold  on !  "  he  cried,  catching  up  the  end 
of  the  rocket  line,  and  fastening  it  round  his  waist, 
wliile  he  kicked  off  his  heavy  boots. 

"  You  can't  do  it,  Bill,"  cried  some. 

"  Too  far  to  swim,"  cried  others. 

"  The  sea's  '11  knock  the  life  out  o'  ye,"  said 
Grinder,  "afore  you  're  clear  o'  the  sand." 

Despite  these  warnings  the  brave  young  fellow 
dashed  into  the  foam,  and  plunged  straight  into  the 
first  mighty  breaker  that  towered  over  his  head. 
But  he  was  too  much  excited  to  act  effectively. 
He  failed  to  time  his  plunge  well.  The  wave  fell 
upon  liim  with  a  roar  and  crushed  him  down.  In 
a  few  seconds  he  was  dragged  ashore  almost  in- 
sensible. 

Example,  whether  good  or  bad,  is  infectious. 
Another  strapping  young  fellow,  stirred  to  emula- 
tion, ran  forward,  and,  seizing  the  rope,  tied  it 
round  his  own  waist,  while  they  helped  poor  Bill 
up  the  beacli  and  seated  liim  on  a  sand-bank. 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


25 


The  second  youth  was  more  powerful  than  the 
first — and  cooler.  He  made  a  better  attempt,  but 
only  got  past  the  first  wave,  when  his  comrades, 
seeing  that  he  was  exhausted,  drew  him  back. 
Then  a  third — a  broad  burly  youth — came  forward. 

At  this  point  the  soul  of  Shank  Leather  took  fire, 
for  he  was  by  no  means  destitute  of  generous  im- 
pulses, and  he  tried  to  get  hold  of  the  rope. 

"  Out  o'  the  way,"  cried  the  burly  youth,  giving 
Leather  a  rough  push  that  almost  sent  him  on  his 
back ;  "  we  don't  want  no  land-lubbers  for  this  kind 
o'  work." 

Up  to  this  point  Charlie  Brooke,  although  burn- 
ing with  eager  desire  to  take  some  active  part  in 
the  rescue,  had  restrained  himself  and  held  back, 
believing,  with  characteristic  modesty,  that  the 
fishermen  knew  far  better  than  he  did  how  to  face 
the  sea  and  use  their  appliances ;  but  when  he  saw 
his  friend  stagger  backward,  he  sprang  to  the  front, 
caught  hold  of  the  line,  and,  seizing  the  burly 
fisherman  by  the  arm,  exclaimed,  "  You  11  let  this 
land-lubber  try  it,  anyhow,"  and  sent  him  spinning 
away  like  a  capsized  nine-pin. 

There  was  a  short  laugh,  as  well  as  a  cheer  at 
this ;  but  next  moment  all  were  gazing  at  the  sea 
in  breathless  anxiety,  for  Brooke  had  rushed  deep 
into  the  surf.  He  paused  one  moment,  as  the  great 
wave  curled  over  him,  then  went  through  it  head- 
first with  such  force  that  he  shot  waist-high  out  of 


26 


CIIAULIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


the  sea  on  the  other  side.  His  exceptional  swiui- 
ming-powers  now  served  him  well,  for  his  otter-like 
rapidity  of  action  enabled  him  to  avoid  the  crushing 
billows  either  by  diving  through  them  at  the  right 
moment,  or  holding  back  until  they  fell,  and  left  him 
only  the  mad  swirling  foam  to  contend  with.  This 
last  was  bad  enough,  but  here  his  great  muscular 
strength  and  his  inexhaustible  caloric,  with  his 
cork-like  power  of  flotation,  enabled  him  to  hold 
his  own  without  exhaustion  until  another  oppor- 
tunity of  piercing  an  unbroken  wave  offered.  Thus 
he  gradually  forced  his  way  through  and  beyond 
the  worst  breakers,  which  are  always  those  nearest 
shore.  Had  any  one  been  close  to  him,  and  able 
calmly  to  watch  his  movements,  it  would  have  been 
;ieen  that,  great  as  were  the  youth's  powers,  he  did 
not  waste  them  in  useless  battling  with  a  force 
against  which  no  man  could  effectively  contend; 
that,  with  a  cool  head,  he  gave  way  to  every  irresist- 
ible force,  sv/imming  for  a  moment,  as  it  were,  with 
the  current — or,  rather,  floating  easily  in  the  whirl- 
pools— so  as  to  conserve  his  strength ;  that,  ever 
and  anon,  he  struck  out  with  all  his  might,  rushing 
through  foam  and  wave  like  a  fish,  and  that,  in  the 
midst  of  it  all,  he  saw  and  seized  the  brief  moments 
in  which  he  could  take  a  gasping  inhalation. 

Those  who  watched  him  with  breathless  anxiety 
on  shore  saw  little  of  all  this  as  they  payed  out 
the  line  or  perched  themselves  on  tiptoe  on  the 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  UOCKIES. 


27 


few  boulders  that  here  and  there  strewed  the 
sand. 

"  Haul  him  back  ! "  shouted  th  man  who  was 
farthest  out  on  the  line.     "  He  's  used  up ! " 

"  'No,  he 's  not,  I  know  him  well ! "  roared  Shank 
Leather.    "  Pay  out,  men — pay  out  line  ! " 

"Ay,  ease  away,"  said  Grinder,  in  a  thunderous 
growl.  "  He 's  a  rigler  walrus,  he  is.  Niver  see'd 
sich  a  feller  since  I  left  the  southern  seas.  Ease 
away,  boys." 

A  cheer  followed  his  remark,  for  at  that  moment 
it  was  seen  that  our  hero  had  reached  the  tail  of  the 
eddy  which  was  caused  by  the  hull  of  the  wreck, 
and  that  one  of  her  crew  had  darted  from  Je  cover 
of  the  vessel's  bulwarks  and  taken  sheltni  under 
the  stump  of  the  mainmast.  His  object  was  seen 
in  a  moment,  for  he  unhooked  a  coil  of  rope  from 
the  belay ing-pins,  and  stood  ready  to  heave  it  to 
the  approaching  swimmer.  In  making  even  this 
preparation  the  man  ran  very  great  risk,  for  the 
stump  was  but  a  partial  shelter — each  wave  that 
burst  over  the  side  sweeping  wildly  round  it  and 
leaping  on  the  man  higher  than  his  waist,  so  that  it 
was  very  difficult  for  him  to  avoid  being  torn  from 
his  position. 

Charlie's  progress  was  now  comparatively  easy. 
A  few  vigorous  strokes  brought  him  under  the  lea 
of  the  wreck,  which,  however,  was  by  no  means  a 
quiet  spot,  for  each  divided  wave,  rushing  round 


Ill 


28 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  KESCLE  :    A  TALE 


bow  anci  stern,  met  there  in  a  tumult  of  foam  that 
ahnost  choked  the  swimmer,  while  each  billow  that 
burst  over  the  wreck  poured  a  small  Niagara  on  his 
head. 

How  to  get  on  board  in  such  circumstances  was 
a  subject  that  had  troubled  Charlie's  mind  as  he 
drew  near,  but  the  action  of  the  sailor  unhooking 
the  coil  of  rope  at  once  relieved  him.  The  moment 
he  came  within  reach,  the  sailor,  watching  his 
opportunity  between  waves,  threw  out  the  coil.  It 
was  aimed  by  an  accustomed  hand  and  fell  on  the 
rescuer's  head.  Another  minute  and  young  Brooke 
stood  on  the  deck.  Without  waiting  an  instant  he 
leaped  under  the  shelter  of  the  stump  of  the  main- 
mast beside  the  seaman.  He  was  only  just  in  time, 
for  a  wave  burst  in  thunder  ou  the  weather  side  of 
the  quivering  brig,  and,  pouring  over  the  bulwarks, 
almost  dragged  him  from  the  belaying-pin^:  to  which 
he  clung. 

The  instant  the  strain  was  off,  he  passed  a  rope 
round  his  waist  and  gave  the  end  of  it  to  tlie 
sailor. 

"Here,  make  it  fast,"  he  pf>id,  beginning  to  haul 
with  all  his  might  on  the  line  which  he  had  brought 
from  shore.     "  You  're  the  skipper — eh  ? " 

"Yes.  Don't  waste  your  breath  in  speech.  1 
know  what  to  do.     All 's  ready." 

These  few  words  were  an  unspeakable  relief  to 
our  hero,  who  was  well  aware  that  the  working  of 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  R0CKIE8. 


29 


the  rocket  apparatus  required  a  slight  amount  of 
knowledge,  and  who  felt  from  his  manner  and  tone 
that  the  skipper  was  a  thorough  man.  He  glanced 
upwards  as  he  hauled  in  the  line,  assisted  by  his 
companion,  and  saw  that  a  stout  rope  with  two 
loops  on  it  had  been  fixed  to  the  stump  of  the  mast. 
Just  as  he  '".oted  this  with  satisfaction  a  large  block 
with  a  thin  line  rove  through  it  emerged  from  the 
boiling  sea.  It  had  been  attached  by  the  men  on 
shore  to  the  rocket  line  which  Charlie  had  been 
hauling  out  with  so  much  energy.  Its  name  was 
indicated  by  the  skipper. 

"  Here  comes  the  whip,"  he  cried,  catching  hold 
of  the  block  when  it  reached  him.  "  Hold  me  up, 
lad,  while  I  make  it  fast  to  them  loops." 

While  Charlie  obeyed  he  saw  that  by  fixing  the 
tail-lines  of  the  block  quickly  to  the  loops  prepared 
for  them,  instead  of  winding  them  round  the  mast, 
— a  difficult  process  in  such  a  sea — much  time  was 
saved. 

"  There,  our  part  o'  the  job  is  done  now,"  said  the 
skipper,  pulling  off  his  sou'westei  as  he  spoke  and 
holding  it  up  as  a  signal  to  the  men  on  shore. 

Meanwhile  those  to  whom  he  signalled  had  been 
watching  every  movement  with  intense  eagerness, 
and  with  the  expressions  of  men  whose  gaze  ha?  to 
penetrate  with  difficulty  through  a  haze  of  blinding 
spray. 

"  Tliey  've  got  the  block  now,"  cried  one  man. 


30 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:    A  TALE 


"  Does  that  young  feller  know  about  fixin'  of  it  ? " 
asked  another. 

"  Clap  a  stopper  on  your  mugs ;  they  're  a-fixin'  of 
it  now,"  said  old  Grinder.  "  There  's  the  signal ! 
Haul  away,  lads ! " 

We  must  explain  here  that  the  "whip"  above 
mentioned  was  a  double  or  endless  line,  passing 
through  the  block  which  had  been  hauled  out  to 
the  wreck  by  our  hero. 

By  means  of  this  whip  one  end  of  a  stout  cable 
was  sent  off  to  the  wreck,  and  on  this  cable  a  sling- 
lifebuoy  was  hung  to  a  pulley  and  also  run  out  to 
the  wreck.  The  working  of  the  apparatus,  though 
simple  enough  to  seamen,  would  entail  a  complicated, 
perhaps  incomprehensible,  description  to  landsmen  : 
we  therefore  pass  it  by  with  the  remark  that,  con- 
nection with  the  shore  having  been  established,  and 
the  sling -lifebuoy — or  life-saving  machine — run  out, 
the  crew  received  it  with  what  was  meant  for  a 
hearty  cheer,  but  which  exhaustion  modified  to  a 
feeble  shout. 

"  Now,  lads,"  cried  the  skipper  to  his  men,  "  look 
sharp !    Let  out  the  passengers." 

"  Passengers  ? "  exclaimed  Charlie  Brooke  in 
surprise. 

"  Ay — my  wife  an'  little  gurl,  two  women  and  an 
old  gentleman.  You  don't  suppose  I  'd  keep  'em  on 
deck  to  be  washed  overboard  ? " 

As  he  spoke  two  of  the  men  opened  tlie  doors  of 


V¥  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


31 


the  coinpaiiiou-liatch,  and  caiiglit  hold  of  a  little 
girl  of  about  five  years  of  age,  wlio  was  handed  up 
by  n  woman. 

"  Stay !  keep  her  under  cover  till  I  get  hold  of 
her,"  cried  the  skipper. 

As  he  was  passing  from  the  mast  to  the  com- 
panion a  lieavy  sea  burst  over  the  bulwarks,  and 
swept  him  into  the  scuppers.  The  same  wave 
wrenched  the  child  from  the  grasp  of  the  man  who 
held  it  and  carried  it  right  overboard.  Like  an  eel, 
rather  than  a  man,  Charlie  cleft  the  foam  close 
behind  her,  caught  her  by  the  skirt  and  bore  her  to 
the  surface,  when  a  few  strokes  of  his  free  arm 
brought  him  close  under  the  lee  of  the  wreck  just 
in  time  to  prevent  the  agonised  father  from  leaping 
after  his  child.  There  was  terrible  suspense  for  a 
few  minutes.  At  one  moment  our  hero,  with  his 
burden  held  high  aloft,  was  far  down  in  the  hollow 
of  the  watery  turmoil,  with  the  black  hull  like  a 
great  wall  rising  above  him,  while  the  skipper  in 
the  main-chains,  pale  as  death  but  sternly  silent, 
held  on  with  his  left  hand  and  reached  down  witli 
his  right — every  finger  rigid  and  ready!  Next 
moment  a  water-spout,  so  to  speak,  bore  the  rescuer 
upward  on  its  crest,  but  not  near  enough — they 
went  downward  again.  Once  more  the  leaping 
water  surged  upwards;  the  skipper's  strong  hand 
closed  like  the  grip  of  death  on  the  dress,  and  the 
child  was  safe  while  its  rescuer  sank  awny  from  it. 


32 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


"  Help  him ! "  shouted  the  skipper,  as  he  staggered 
to  the  shelter  of  the  companion. 

But  Charlie  required  no  help.  A  loose  rope 
hanging  over  the  side  caught  his  eye :  he  seized  it 
and  was  on  deck  again  in  a  few  seconds.  A 
minute  later  and  he  was  down  in  the  cabin. 

There,  terror-stricken,  sat  the  skipper's  wife, 
never  venturing  to  move,  because  she  had  been 
told  to  remain  there  till  called.  Happily  she 
knew  nothing  of  the  incident  just  described. 

Beside  her  sat  the  other  women,  and,  near  to 
them,  a  stern  old  gentleman,  who,  with  compressed 
lips,  quietly  awaited  orders. 

"  Come,  quick ! "  said  Charlie,  grasping  by  the 
arm  one  of  the  women. . 

It  was  the  skipper's  wife.  She  jumped  up  right 
willingly  and  went  on  deck.  There  she  found  her 
child  already  in  the  life-buoy,  and  was  instantly 
lifted  in  beside  it  by  her  husband,  who  looked 
hastily  round. 

"  Come  here,  Dick,"  he  said  to  a  little  cabin-boy 
who  clung  to  a  stanchion  near  by.     "  Get  in." 

Tlie  boy  looked  surprised,  and  drew  back. 

"  Get  in,  I  say,"  repeated  the  skipper  sternly. 

"  There 's  more  women,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  still 
holding  back. 

"  True — brave  lad  !  but  you  're  wanted  to  keep 
these  from  getting  washed  out.  I  am  too  heavy, 
you  know." 


SB 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  FvOCKIES. 


33 


The  boy  hesitated  no  longer.  He  squeezed  him- 
self into  the  machine  beside  the  woman  and 
child. 

Then  up  at  arm's-length  went  the  skipper's  sou'- 
wester as  a  signal  that  all  was  ready,  and  the  fisher- 
men began  to  haul  the  life-buoy  to  the  shore. 

It  was  an  awful  trip  !  Part  of  the  distance, 
indeed,  the  trio  were  borne  along  well  out  of  the 
sea,  though  the  waves  leaped  hungrily  up  and  sent 
spray  over  them,  but  as  they  drew  near  the  shore 
they  were  dipped  again  and  again  into  the  foam,  so 
that  tlie  little  cabin  boy  needed  all  his  energy  and 
knowledge,  as  well  as  his  bravery  and  strength,  to 
prevent  his  charge  being  washed  out.  Amid  ring- 
ing cheers  from  the  fishermen — and  a  treble  echo 
from  the  women  behind  tiie  wall — they  were  at  last 
safely  landed. 

"My  lass,  that  friend  o'  your'n  be  a  braave 
cheeld,"  said  an  old  woman  to  May  Leather,  who 
crouched  beside  her. 

"  Ay,  that  he  is  ! "  exclaimed  May,  with  a  gush  of 
enthusiasm  in  tone  and  eyes  that  made  them  all 
turn  to  look  at  her. 

"Your  brother?"  asked  a  handsome,  strapping 
young  woman. 

"  No— I  wish  he  was  !" 

"  Hni !  ha  !  "  exclaimed  the  strapping  young 
woman — whereat  there  was  exchanged  a  signifi- 
cant laugh ;  but  May  took  no  notice  of  it,  being  too 


34 


CIIAKLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


(I 
It  >< 


deeply  engrossed  with  the  proceedings  on  shore  and 
sea. 

Again  tlie  fishermen  ran  out  the  life-buoy  and 
soon  hauled  it  back  with  another  woman ;  then  a 
third.  After  that  came  the  old  gentleman,  quite 
self-possessed  and  calm,  though  very  pale  and  di- 
sheveled;  and,  following  him,  the  crew,  one  by  one, 
were  rescued.  Then  came  the  hero  of  the  hour,  and 
last  of  all,  as  in  duty  bound,  the  skipper — not  much 
too  soon,  for  he  had  barely  reached  the  land  when 
the  brig  was  overwhelmed  and  engulfed  in  the 
ragjinti;  sea. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES, 


35 


CIIAPTEE   III. 


"it's  an  jll  wind  that  blaws  naebody  guid." 

That  mnny  if  not  most  names  have  originated  in 
the  character  or  condition  of  individuals  seems 
obvious,  else  why  is  it  that  so  many  people  take 
after  their  names  ?  We  have  no  desire  to  ar<?ue  the 
question,  but  hasten  on  to  remark  that  old  Jacob 
Crossley  was  said  to  be — observe,  we  do  not  say  that 
he  was — a  notable  illustration  of  what  we  refer  to. 

Jacob  was  "  as  cross  as  two  sticks,"  if  we  are  to 
believe  Mrs.  Bland,  his  housekcnper — and  Mrs. 
Bland  was  worthy  of  belief,  for  she  was  an  honest 
widow  who  held  prevarication  to  be  equivalent  to 
lying,  and  who,  besides  having  been  in  the  old 
bachelor's  service  for  many  years,  had  on  one  occasion 
been  plucked  by  him  from  under  the  feet  of  a  pair 
of  horses  when  attempting  the  more  dangerous  than 
nor'-west  passage  of  a  London  crossing.  Gratitude, 
therefore,  rendered  it  probable  that  Mrs.  Bland 
spake  truly  when  she  said  that  her  master  was  as 
cross  as  two  sticks.  Of  course  we  admit  that  her 
judgment  may  have  been  faulty. 


'ssa^ 


3G 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


. 


m 


strange  to  say  Mr.  Crossley  had  no  reason — 
at  least  no  very  apparent  reason — for  being  cross, 
unless,  indeed,  the  mere  fact  of  his  being  an  old 
bachelor  was  a  sufficient  reason.  Perhaps  it  was ! 
But  in  regard  to  everything  else  he  had,  as  the 
saying  goes,  nothing  to  complain  of.  He  was  a 
prosperous  East  India  merchant — not  a  miser, 
though  a  cross  old  bachelor,  and  not  a  milHonaire, 
though  comfortably  rich.  His  business  was  pro- 
sperous, his  friends  were  numerous,  his  digestion  was 
good,  his  nervous  system  was  apparently  all  that 
could  be  desired,  and  he  slept  well ! 

Standing  one  morning  in  the  familiar  British 
position  before  his  dining-room  fire  in  London,  he 
frowningly  contemplated  his  housekeeper  as  that  in- 
defatigable woman  removed  the  breakfast  equipage. 

"  Has  the  young  man  called  this  morning  ? " 

"  Not  yet,  sir." 

"  Well,  when  he  comes  tell  him  I  had  business  in 
the  city  and  could  wait  no " 

A  ring  and  a  sharp  knock  interrupted  him. 
A  few  moments  later  Charlie  Brooke  was  ushered 
into  the  room.  It  was  a  smallish  room,  for 
Mr.  Crossley,  although  well  oJT,  did  not  see 
the  propriety  of  wasting  money  on  unnecessary 
space  or  rent,  and  the  doorway  was  so  low 
that  Charlie's  hair  brushed  against  the  top  as  he 
entered. 

"I  called,  Mr.  Crossley,  in  accordance  with  the 


III 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


37 


wish  expressed  in  your  letter.     Although,  being  a 
stranger,  I  do  not " 

The  young  man  stopped  at  this  point  and  looked 
steadily  at  the  old  gentleman  with  a  peculiarly 
questioning  expression. 

"  You  recognise  me,  I  see,"  said  the  old  man,  with 
a  very  slight  smile. 

"  Well — I  may  be  mistaken,  but  you  do  bear  some 
resemblance  to " 

"  Just  so,  I  'm  the  man  that  you  hauled  so  violently 
out  of  the  cabin  of  the  wreck  last  week,  and  shoved  so 
unceremoniously  into  the  life-buoy,  and  I  have  sent 
for  you,  first,  to  thank  you  for  saving  my  life, 
because  they  tell  me  that,  but  for  your  swimming 
off  with  a  rope,  we  should  certainly  have  all  been 
lost ;  and,  secondly,  to  offer  you  aid  in  any  course  of 
life  you  may  wish  to  adopt,  for  I  have  been  informed 
that  you  are  not  at  present  engaged  in  any  special 
employment." 

"You  are  very  kind,  sir,  very  kind,"  returned 
Charlie,  somewhat  embarrassed.  "  I  can  scarcely 
claim,  however,  to  have  saved  your  life,  though 
I  thankfully  admit  having  had  the  opportunity  to 
lend  a  hand.  The  rocket-men,  in  reality,  did  the 
work,  for  without  their  splendid  working  of  the 
apparatus  my  swimming  off  would  have  been 
useless." 

Mr.  Crossley  frowned  while  the  youth  was  speak- 
ing, and  regarded  him  with  some  suspicion. 


38 


CHARLIE  TO  TIIK  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


"You  admit,  I  suppose,"  he  rejoined  sternly, 
"  that  if  you  had  not  swum  off,  the  rocket  apparatus 
would  have  been  equally  useless." 

"By  no  means,"  returned  Charlie,  with  that 
benignant  smile  that  always  accompanied  his 
opposition  in  argument.  "T  do  not  admit  that, 
because,  if  T  had  not  done  it,  assuredly  some  one  else 
would.  In  fact  a  friend  of  mine  was  on  the  point 
of  making  the  attempt  when  I  pulled  him  back 
and  prevented  him." 

"  And  why  did  you  prevent  him  ? " 

"  Because  he  was  not  so  well  able  to  do  it  as  I." 

"  Oh  !  I  see.  In  other  words,  you  have  a  pretty 
high  opinion  of  your  own  powers."    • 

"  Possibly  I  have,"  returned  the  youth,  somewhat 
sharply.  "  I  lay  claim  to  no  exemption  from  the 
universal  law  of  vanity  which  seems  to  affect  the 
entire  human  race — especially  the  cynical  part  of  it. 
At  the  same  time,  knowing  from  long  experience 
that  I  am  physically  stronger,  can  swim  better,  and 
have  greater  power  of  endurance,  though  not  greater 
courage,  than  my  friend,  it  would  be  mere  pretence 
were  I  to  assume  that  in  such  matters  I  was  his 
inferior.  You  asked  me  why  I  prevented  him :  I 
gave  you  the  reason  exactly  and  straightforwardly. 
I  now  repeat  it." 

"  Don't  be  so  ready  to  fire  up,  young  man,"  said 
Crossley,  with  a  deprecating  smile.  "I  had  no 
intention  of  hurting  your  feelings." 


\l 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  TlIK  KOCKIKS. 


39 


"  You  luivc  not  hurt  them,  sir,"  returned  Charlie, 
with  ahnost  provoking  urbanity  of  manner  and 
sweetness  of  voice,  "you  liave  only  misunderstood 
me." 

"  Well,  well,  let  it  pass.  Tell  me,  now,  can  I  do 
anything  for  you  ? " 

"  Nothing,  thank  you." 

"  FA\  ? "  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman  in  surprise. 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,"  repeated  his  visitor.  "  I 
did  not  save  you  for  the  purpose  of  being  rewarded, 
and  I  refuse  to  accept  reward  for  saving  you." 

For  a  second  or  two  Mr.  Crossley  regarded  his 
visitor  in  silence,  with  a  conflicting  mixture  of 
frown  and  smile — a  sort  of  acidulated-drop  expres- 
sion on  his  ruGjored  face.     Then  he  asked — 

"What  is  the  name  of  this  friend  whom  you 
prevented  from  swimming  oil'  to  us  ? " 

"  Shank  Leather." 

"  Is  he  a  very  great  friend  of  yours  ? " 

"Very.  We  have  been  playmates  from  child- 
hood, and  school-fellows  till  now." 

"  What  is  he  ? — his  profession,  I  mean  ? " 

"  Nothing  at  present.  That  is  to  say,  he  has,  like 
myself,  been  trained  to  no  special  profession,  and 
the  failure  of  the  firm  in  the  counting-house  of 
which  we  have  both  served  for  some  months  has 
cast  us  adrift  at  the  same  time." 

"  Would  it  give  you  much  satisfaction  if  I  were 
to  find  good  employment  for  your  friend  ? " 


40 


CIIAKLIE  TO  THE  IIKSCUE  :    A  TALE 


"  Indeed  it  would — the  liigliest  possible  satisfac- 
tion," exclaimed  Charlie,  with  the  first  symptom  of 
enthusiasm  in  his  tone  and  look. 

"  What  can  your  friend  Shank  Leather  do  ? " 
asked  the  old  man  brusquely. 

"  Oh !  many  things.  He 's  capital  at  figures, 
thoroughly  understj  book-keeping,  and — and  is 
a  hard-working  fellow,  whatever  he  puts  his  hand 
to." 

"  Is  he  steady  ? " 

Charlie  was  silent  for  a  few  moments. 

"  Well,  one  cannot  be  sure,"  he  answered,  with 
some  hesitation,  "  what  meaning  you  attach  to  the 
word  '  steady.'     I " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see,"  interrupted  Crossley,  consulting 
his  watch.  "  No  tin:  ^  to  discuss  meanings  of  words 
just  now.  Will  y(  11  your  friend  to  call  on  me 
here  the  day  after  to-morrow  at  six  o'clock  ?  You 
live  in  Sealford,  I  have  been  told ;  does  he  live  near 
you?" 

"  Yes,  within  a  few  minutes'  walk." 

"Well,  tell  him  to  be  punctual.  Punctuality  is 
the  soul  of  business.  Hope  I  won't  find  your  friVnd 
as  independent  as  you  seem  to  be !  You  are  quite 
sure,  are  you,  that  I  can  do  nothing  for  you  ?  I  have 
both  money  and  influence." 

The  more  determined  that  our  hero  became  to 
decline  all  offers  of  assistance  from  the  man  who  had 
misconstrued   his   motives,   the   more   of   urbanity 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  TIIK  KOCFvIKS. 


41 


uiiiiked  his  iiianiicr,  and  it  was  with  a  smile  of 
ineffable  good-nature  on  his  masculine  features  that 
lie  repeated,  "  Nothing,  thank  you — quite  sure.  You 
will  have  done  me  the  greatest  possible  service 
when  you  help  my  friend.  Yet— stay.  You  men- 
tioned money.  There  is  an  institution  in  which  I 
am  much  interested,  and  which  you  might  appro- 
priately remember  just  now." 

"  What  is  that  ? " 

"  The  Lifeboat  Institution." 

"But  it  was  not  the  Lifeboat  Institution  that 
saved  me.     It  was  the  Rocket  apparatus." 

"  True,  but  it  miylit  have  been  a  lifeboat  that 
saved  you.  The  rockets  are  in  charge  of  the  Coast- 
Guard  and  need  no  assistance,  whereas  the  Lifeboat 
Service  depends  on  voluntary  contributions,  and  the 
fact  that  it  did  not  happen  to  save  ]\Ir.  Crossley 
from  a  grave  in  the  sea  does  not  affect  its  claim  to 
tlie  nation's  gratitude  for  the  hundreds  of  lives 
saved  by  its  boats  every  year." 

"  Admitted,  my  young  friend,  your  reasoning  is 
just,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  sitting  down  at  a 
writing  table  and  taking  a  cheque-book  from  a 
drawer ;  "  what  shall  I  put  down  ? " 

"  You  know  your  circumstances  best,"  said  Charlie, 
somewhat  amused  by  the  question. 

"  Most  people  in  ordinary  circumstances,"  returned 
the  old  man  slowly  as  he  wrote,  "contribute  a  guinea 
to  such  charities." 


^ima 


42 


CIIAKLIK  TO  TIIH  UESCUE  :    A  TALE 


i: 


"  Many  people,"  remarked  Charlie,  with  a  feeling 
of  pity  rather  than  contempt,  "contribute  five,  or 
even  fifteen." 

"Ah,  indeed — yes,  well,  Mr.  Brooke,  will  you 
condescend  to  be  the  bearer  of  my  contribution  ? 
Fourteen  St.  John  St.,  Adelphi,  is  not  far  from  this, 
and  it  will  save  a  penny  of  postage,  you  know  ! " 

Mr.  Crossley  rose  and  handed  the  cheque  to  his 
visitor,  who  felt  half  disposed — on  the  strengtn  of 
the  postage  remark — to  refuse  it  and  speak  his  mind 
somewhat  freely  on  the  subject,  but,  his  eye  hap- 
pening to  fall  on  the  cheque  at  the  moment,  he 
paused. 

"  You  have  made  a  mistake,  T  think,"  he  said. 
"  This  is  for  live  hundred  pounds." 

"  I  make  no  mistakes,  j\Ir.  Brooke,"  returned  the 
old  man  sternly.  "  You  said  something  about  five  or 
fifteen.  T  could  not  well  manage  fifteen  hundred 
just  now,  for  it  is  bad  times  in  the  city  at  present. 
Indeed,  according  to  some  people,  it  is  always  bad 
times  there,  and,  to  say  truth,  some  people  are  not 
far  wrong — at  least  as  regards  their  own  experiences. 
Now,  I  must  be  off  to  business.  Good-bye.  Don't 
forget  to  impress  on  your  friend  the  importance  of 
punctuality." 

Jacob  Crossley  held  out  his  hand  with  an  expres- 
sion of  affability  which  was  for  him  quite  mar- 
vellous. 

"  You  're  a  much  better  man  Lliaii  I  thought  you! " 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


43 


!» 


exclaimed  Charlie,  [grasping  the  proffered  hand  with 
a  fervour  that  caused  the  other  to  wince. 

"Young  sir,"  returned  Crossley,  regarding  the 
fingers  of  his  right  hand  somewhat  pitifully,  "people 
whose  physique  is  moulded  on  the  pattern  of  Sam- 
son ought  to  bear  in  mind  that  rheumatism  is  not 
altogether  unknown  to  elderly  men.  Your  opinion 
of  me  was  probably  erroneous  to  begin  with,  and  it 
is  certainly  false  to  end  with.  Let  me  advise  you 
to  remember  that  the  gift  of  money  does  not 
necessarily  prove  anything  except  that  a  man  has 
money  to  give — nay,  it  does  not  always  prove  even 
that,  for  many  people  are  notoriously  prone  to  give 
away  money  that  belongs  to  somebody  else.  Five 
hundred  pounds  is  to  some  men  not  of  much  more 
importance  than  five  pence  is  to  others.  Everything 
is  relative.     Good-bye." 

While  he  was  speaking  Mr.  Crossley  rang  tlie  bell 
and  politely  opened  the  dining-room  door,  so  that 
our  hero  found  himself  in  the  street  before  he  had 
quite  recovered  from  his  astonishment. 

"  Please,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Ijland  to  her  master  after 
Charlie  was  gone,  "  Cap'en  Stride  is  awaitin'  in  the 
library." 

"  Send  him  here,"  said  Crossley,  once  more  con- 
suUinu;  his  watch. 

"  Well,  Captain  Stride,  I  've  had  a  talk  with  him," 
he  said,  as  an  exceedingly  broad,  heavy,  short-legged 
man  entered,  with  a  bald  head  and   ^  general  air  of 


El  I 


44 


CIIAKLIE  TO  THE  llESCUE  :   A  TALE 


salt  water,  tar,  and  whiskers  about  him.  "  Sit  down. 
Have  you  made  up  your  mind  to  take  command  of 
the  Walrus '.  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Crossley,  since  you  're  so  very  good," 
said  the  sea-captain  with  a  modest  look,  "  I  had 
feared  that  the  loss  o' " 

"Never  mind  the  loss  of  the  brig,  Captain.  It 
was  no  fault  of  yours  that  she  came  to  grief.  Other 
ship-owners  may  do  as  they  please.  I  shall  take 
the  liberty  of  doing  as  /  please.  So,  if  you  are 
ready,  the  ship  is  ready.  I  have  seen  Captain 
Stuart,  and  I  find  that  he  is  down  with  typhoid 
fever,  poor  fellow,  and  won't  be  fit  for  duty  again  for 
many  weeks.  The  Walms  must  sail  not  later  than 
a  week  or  ten  days  hence.  She  can't  sail  without  a 
captain,  and  I  know  of  no  better  man  than  yourself ; 
so,  if  you  agree  to  take  command,  there  she  is,  if  not 
I  '11  find  another  man." 

"  I  'm  agreeable,  sir,"  said  Captain  Stride,  with  a 
gratified,  meek  look  on  his  large  bronzed  face — a 
look  so  very  different  from  the  leonine  glare  with 
which  he  was  wont  to  regard  tempestuous  weatlier 
or  turbulent  men.  "  Of  course  it  '11  come  rather 
sudden  on  the  missus,  but  w'en  it  blows  hard  what 's 
a  man  got  to  do  but  make  all  snug  and  stand  by  ? " 

"  Quite  true,  Stride.  I  have  no  doubt  that  you 
are  nautically  as  well  as  morally  correct,  so  I  leave 
it  to  you  to  bring  round  the  mistress,  and  consider 
that  matter  as  settled.     I^y  the  way,  I  hope  that  she 


OF  THE  SEa  and  THE  ROCKIES. 


45 


and  your  little  girl  have  not  suffered  from  the  wet- 
ting and  rough  handling  experienced  when  being 
rescued." 

"  Not  in  the  least,  sir,  thankee.  In  fact  I  incline 
to  the  belief  that  they  are  rather  more  frisky  than 
usual  in  consekince.     Leastwise  little  Maggie  is." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it.    Now,  about  that  young  fellow." 

"  By  which  I  s'pose  you  mean  Mr.  Brooke,  sir  ? " 

"  The  same.  He  has  just  left  me,  and  upon  my 
word,  he's  about  the  coolest  young  fellow  1  ever 
met  with."  • 

"That's  just  what  I  said  to  the  missus,  sir,  the 
very  night  arter  we  was  rescued.  'The  way  tluit 
young  feller  come  off,  Maggie,'  says  I,  'is  most 
extraor'nar'.     No  fish  that '  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Stride,  I  know,  but  that 's  not  exactly 
what  I  mean  :  it's  his  being  so  amazingly  indepen- 
dent that " 

"  'Zactly  what  I  said,  sir.  '  Maggie,'  says  1,  '  that 
young  feller  seemed  to  be  quite  independent  of  fm 
or  tail,  for  he  came  right  off  in  the  teeth  o'  wind  and 
tide '" 

"  That 's  not  what  1  mean  either.  Captain,"  inter- 
rupted the  old  gentleman,  with  slight  impatience. 
"  It 's  his  independent  spirit  I  refer  to." 

"  Oh !  I  ax  your  pardon,  sir." 

"  Well,  now,  listen,  and  don't  interrupt  me.  But 
first  let  me  ask,  does  he  know  that  I  am  the  owner 
of  the  brig  that  was  lost  ? " 


46 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


1 


i       i 


';  !l 


"  Yes ;  he  knows  that." 

"  Does  he  know  that  I  also  own  the  Walms." 

"  No,  I  'm  pretty  sure  he  don't.  Leastwise  I 
didn't  tell  him,  an'  there 's  nobody  else  down  there 
as  knows  anything  about  you." 

"  So  far,  good.  Now,  Stride,  I  want  you  to  help 
me.  The  young  goose  is  so  proud,  or  I  know  not 
what,  that  he  won't  accept  any  favours  or  rewards 
from  me,  and  I  find  that  he  is  out  of  work  just  now, 
so  I  'm  determined  to  give  him  something  to  do  in 
■spite  of  himself.  The  present  supercargo  of  the 
IFalnis  is  a  young  man  who  will  be  pleased  to  fall 
in  with  anything  I  propose  to  him.  I  mean,  there- 
fore, to  put  him  in  another  ship  and  appoint  young 
Brooke  to  the  Walrus.  Fortunately  the  firm  of 
Withers  and  Co.  does  not  reveal  my  name — I 
having  been  Co.  originally,  though  I'm  the  firm 
now,  so  that  he  won't  suspect  anything,  and  what 
I  want  is,  that  you  should  do  the  engaging  of  him 
— being  authorised  by  Withers  and  Co. — you  under- 
stand?"     • 

"  T  follow  you,  sir.     But  what  if  he  objects  ? " 

"  He  won't  object.  I  have  privately  inquired 
about  him.  He  is  anxious  to  get  employment,  and 
has  strong  leanings  to  an  adventurous  life  on  the 
sea.     There 's  no  accounting  for  taste,  Captain  1 " 

"  Eight  you  are,  sir,"  replied  the  Captain,  with  an 
approving  nod.  "  That 's  what  I  said  only  this 
mornin'  to  my  missus.    *  Maggie,'  says  I,  *  salt  water 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


47 


hasn't  a  good  taste,  as  even  the  stoopidest  of  mortals 
knows,  but  w'en  a  man  has  had  to  lick  it  off  his 
lips  at  sea  for  the  better  part  of  half  a  century, 
it's  astouishin'  how  he  not  only  gits  used  to  it, 
but  even  comes  to  like  the  taste  of  it'  'Pooh!' 
says  she, '  don't  tell  me  you  likes  it,  for  you  don't ! 
It's  all  a  d'lusion  an'  a  snare.  I  hates  both  the 
taste  an'  the  smell  of  it.'  '  Maggie,'  says  I,  quite 
solemn-like,  'that  maybe  so,  but  you're  not  me.' 
'  No,  thank  goodness  ! '  says  she — which  you  mustn't 
suppose,  sir,  meant  as  she  didn't  like  me,  for  she 's 
a  true-hearted  affectionate  creetur — though  I  say  it 
as  shouldn't — but  she  meant  that  she  'd  have  had  to 
go  to  sea  reg'lar  if  she  had  been  me,  an'  that  would 
have  done  for  her  in  about  six  weeks,  more  or  less, 
for  the  first  time  she  ever  went  she  was  all  but 
turned  inside " 

"If  you're  going  citywards,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Crossley,  again  pulling  out  his  watch,  "  we  may  as 
well  finish  our  talk  in  the  street." 

As  Captain  Stride  was  "quite  agreeable"  to 
this  proposal,  the  two  left  the  house  together,  and, 
liailing  a  hansom,  drove  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
city. 


n 


48 


CHATUJE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


CHArTEPt    IV. 


I 

il 


DRIFTING  ON  THE  HOCKS. 

On  the  sea-shore,  not  far  from  the  spot  where  the 
brig  had  been  wrecked,  Charlie  Brooke  and  Shank 
Leather  walked  up  and  down  engaged  in  earnest 
conversation  soon  after  the  interviews  just  described. 

Very  different  was  the  day  from  that  on  which 
the  wreck  had  taken  place.  It  seemed  almost 
beyond  possibility  that  the  serene  sky  above,  and 
the  calm,  glinting  ocean  which  rippled  so  softly  at 
their  feet,  could  be  connected  with  the  same  world 
in  which  inky  clouds  and  snowy  foam  and  roaring 
billows  had  but  a  short  time  before  held  high 
revelry. 

"Well,  Charlie,''  said  his  friend,  after  a  pause,  "it 
was  very  good  of  you,  old  boy,  and  I  hope  that  I  '11 
do  credit  to  your  recommendation.  The  old  man 
seems  a  decent  sort  of  chap,  though  somewhat 
cross-grained.'" 

"  He  is  kind-hearted,  Shank  ;  I  feel  quite  sure  of 
that,  and  hope  sincerely  that  you  will  get  on  well 
with  him." 


I'lW 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


49 


"'With  him'?"  repeated  leather;  "you  don't 
seem  to  understand  that  the  situation  he  is  to 
get  for  me  is  not  in  connection  with  his  own 
business,  whatever  that  may  be.  It  is  in  some 
other  City  firm,  the  name  of  which  he  has  not 
yet  mentioned.  I  can't  myself  understand  why 
he  is  so  close  ! " 

"  Perhaps  because  he  has  been  born  with  a  secre- 
tive nature,"  suggested  Charlie. 

"  May  be  so.  However,  that 's  no  business  of 
mine,  and  it  doesn't  do  to  be  too  inquisitive  when  a 
man  is  offering  yoii  a  situation  of  two  hundred  a 
year.  It  would  be  like  looking  a  gift-horse  in  the 
mouth.  All  I  'jare  about  is  that  I  'm  to  go  to  Lon- 
don next  week  and.  begin  work. — Why,  you  don't 
seem  pleased  to  hear  of  my  good  fortune,"  continued 
Leather,  turning  a  sharp  look  on  his  friend,  who  was 
gazing  gravely  at  the  sand,  in  which  he  was  poking 
holes  with  his  stick. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Shank,  with  all  my  heart, 
and  you  know  it ;  but — I  'm  sorry  to  find  that  you 
rre  not  to  be  in  connection  with  Mr.  Crossley  him- 
self, for  there  is  more  good  in  him  than  appears  on 
the  surface.  Did  he  then  make  no  mention  of  the 
nature  of  his  own  business  ? " 

"  None  whatever.  To  say  truth,  that  mysterious- 
ness  or  secrecy  is  the  only  point  about  the  old  fellow's 
character  that  I  don't  like,"  said  Leather,  with  a  frown 
of  virtuous  disapproval.    "'All  fair  and  above-board/ 


50 


ClIAllLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:    A  TALE 


II 


that's  my  motto.  Spuak  out  your  mind  and  fear 
nothing ! " 

At  these  noble  sentiments  a  faint  smile,  if  we  may 
say  so,  hovered  somewhere  in  the  recesses  of  Charlie 
Brooke's  interior,  but  not  the  quiver  of  a  muscle 
disturbed  the  solemnity  of  his  face. 

"  The  secrecy  of  his  nature  seems  even  to  have 
infected  that  skipper  with — or  rather  by — whom  he 
was  wrecked,"  continued  Leather,  "  for  when  I  asked 
him  yesterday  about  the  old  gentleman,  he  became 
suddenly  silent,  and  when  T  pressed  him,  he  made 
me  a  rigmarole  speech  something  like  this  :  '  Young 
man,  I  make  it  a  rule  to  know  nothin'  whatever 
about  my  passengers.  As  I  said  only  two  days  past 
to  my  missus  :  "  Maggie,"  says  I,  "  it 's  of  no  use  your 
axin'  me.  My  passengers'  business  is  their  business, 
and  my  business  is  mine.  All  I  've  got  to  do  is  to 
sail  my  ship,  an'  see  to  it  that  I  land  my  passengers 
in  safety." ' 

"  *  You  made  a  pretty  mess  of  your  business,  then, 
the  last  trip,'  ^aid  I,  for  I  was  bothered  with  his 
obvious  determination  not  to  give  me  any  informa- 
tion." 

"  *  Ivight  you  are,  young  man,'  said  he,  '  and  it 
would  have  been  a  still  prettier  mess  if  your  friend 
Mr.  Brooke  hadn't  come  off  wi'  that  there  line  I '  " 

"  I  laughed  at  this  and  recovered  my  temper,  but 
I  could  pump  nothing  more  out  of  him.  Perhaps 
there  was  nothing  to  pump. — But  now  tell  me,  how 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


51 


is  it — for  I  cannot  understand— that  you  refused 
all  offers  to  yourself?  You  are  as  much  'out  of 
work '  just  now  as  I  am." 

"  That 's  true,  Shank,  and  really  I  feel  almost  as 
incapable  of  giving  you  an  answer  as  Captain  Stride 
himself.  You  see,  during  our  conversation  Mr. 
Crossley  attributed  mean— at  all  events  wron^T— 
motives  to  me,  and  somehow  I  felt  that  I  could  not 
accept  any  favour  at  his  hands  just  then.  I  suspect 
I  was  too  hasty.     I  fear  it  was  false  pride " 

"  Ha  !  ha  ! "  laughed  Leather ;  '' '  pride ' !  I  won- 
der in  what  secret  chamber  of  your  big  corpus  your 
pride  lies." 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  It  must  be  pretty  deep. 
Perhaps  it  is  engrained,  and  cannot  be  easily  recog- 
nised." 

"That  last  is  true,  Charlie.  Assuredly  it  can't 
be  recognised,  for  it 's  not  there  at  all.  Why,  if  you 
had  been  born  with  a  scrap  of  false  pride  you  and  I 
could  never  have  been  friends— for  I  hate  it ! " 

Shank  Leather  in  saying  this  had  hit  the  nail 
fairly  on  the  head,  although  he  had  not  intelligently 
probed  the  truth  to  the  bottom.  In  fact  a  great 
deal  of  the  friendship  which  drew  these  young  men 
together  was  the  result  of  their  great  dissimilarity 
of  character.  They  acted  on  each  other  somewhat 
after  the  fashion  of  a  well-adjusted  piece  of  mechan- 
ism, the  ratchets  of  seltishness  and  cog-wheels  of 
vanity  in  Shank  fitting  easily  into  the  pinions  of 


52 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


III  : 


good-will  and  modesty  which  characterised  his 
friend,  so  that  there  was  no  jarring  in  their  inter- 
course. This  alone  would  not,  perhaps,  have  induced 
the  strong  friendship  that  existed  if  it  had  not  been 
coupled  with  their  intimacy  from  childhood,  and 
if  Brooke  had  not  been  particularly  fond  of  Shank's 
invalid  mother,  and  recognised  a  few  of  her  good 
characteristics  faintly  reproduced  in  her  son,  while 
Shank  fully  appreciated  in  Charlie  that  amiable 
temperament  which  inclines  its  happy  possessor  to 
sympathise  much  with  others,  to  talk  little  of  self, 
to  believe  all  things  and  to  hope  all  things,  to  the 
verge  almost  of  infantine  credulity. 

"Well,  well,"  resumed  Charlie,  with  a  laugh, 
"  however  that  may  be,  1  did  decline  Mr.  Crossley's 
offers,  but  it  does  not  matter  much  now,  for  that 
same  worthy  captain  who  bothered  you  so  much  has 
told  me  of  a  situation  of  which  he  has  the  gift,  and 
has  offered  it  to  me." 

"  You  don't  say  so !     Is  it  a  good  one  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  well  paid,  I  'm  told,  though  T  don't 
know  the  exact  amount  of  the  salary  yet." 

"  And  have  you  accepted  ? " 

"  I  have.  Mother  agreed,  after  some  demur,  that 
it  is  better  than  nothing,  so,  like  you,  I  begin  work 
in  a  few  days." 

"  Well  now,  how  strangely  things  do  happen  some- 
times ! "  said  Leather,  stopping  and  looking  out  sea- 
ward, where  the  remains  of  the  brig  could  still  be 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


63 


distinguished  on  the  rocks  that  had  fixed  her  doom. 
"  But  for  that  fortunate  wreck  and  our  saving  the 
people  in  her,  you  and  I  might  still  have  been 
whistling  in  the  ranks  of  the  Great  Unemployed ! 
—And  what  sort  of  a  situation  is  it,  Charlie  ? " 

"You  will  smile,  perhaps,  when  I  tell  you.  It 
is  to  act  as  supercargo  of  the  Walrus,  which  is 
commanded  by  Captain  Stride  himself." 

Young     Leather's     countenance     fell.       "Why, 
Charlie,"  he  said,  "that  means  that  you're   going 
away  to  sea ! " 
"  I  fear  it  does." 
"Soon?" 

"  In  a  week  or  two." 

For  some  little  time  Leather  did  not  speak.  The 
news  fell  upon  him  with  a  shock  of  discgi.eable 
surprise,  for,  apart  from  the  fact  that  he  really  loved 
his  friend,  he  was  somehow  aware  that  there  were 
not  many  other  young  men  who  cared  much  for 
himself— in  regard  to  which  he  was  not  a  little  sur- 
prised, for  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  egotism 
and  selfishness  had  anything  to  do  with  the  coolness 
of  his  friends,  or  that  none  but  men  like  our  hero, 
with  sweet  tempers  and  self-forgetting  dispositions, 
could  by  any  possibility  put  up  with  him. 

"  Who  are  the  owners  of  the  Walrus,  Charlie  ?"  he 
asked,  as  they  turned  into  the  lane  that  led  from 
the  beach  to  the  village. 
"  Withers  and  Co.  of  London." 


64 


CITAHLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


"  H'm — don't  know  tliera.  Tliey  must  be  trustful 
fellows,  however,  to  take  a  captain  into  their  employ 
who  has  just  lost  his  vessel." 

"They  have  not  taken  him  into  their  employ," 
said  Charlie.  "  Captain  Stride  tells  me  he  has  been 
in  their  service  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury, and  they  exonerate  him  from  all  blame  in  the 
loss  of  the  brig.  It  does  seem  odd  to  me,  however, 
that  he  should  be  appointed  so  immediately  to  a 
new  ship,  but,  as  you  remarked,  that's  none  of  my 
business.  Come,  I  '11  go  in  with  you  and  congratu- 
late your  mother  and  May  on  your  appointment." 

T'ley  had  reached  the  door  of  Shank  Leather's 
house  by  that  time.  It  was  a  poor-looking  house,  in 
a  poor  side  street  or  blind  alley  of  the  village,  the 
haimt  of  riotous  children  during  the  day-time,  and  of 
maddening  cats  at  night.  Stray  dogs  now  and  then 
invaded  the  alley,  but,  for  the  most  part,  it  was  to 
children  and  cats  that  the  region  was  given  over. 
Here,  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  the  proverbial 
"  two  ends  "  to  "  meet,"  dwelt  a  considerable  popula- 
tion in  houses  of  diminutive  size  and  small  accom- 
modation.    A  few  of  these  v.rre  persons  who,  having 


"  seen   better    dayi 
poverty  an^l  exi^^' 
better   r" 
individ 


\',  ere  anxious  to  hide  their 
V  fr-nin  the  "  friends  "  of  those 
likewise  a  sprinkling  of 
who,  having  grown  callous 
to  the  to  I'rows  C'l  earth,  had  reached  that  condition 
wherein  the  mt  ctin^  of  the  two  ends  is  a  matter  of 


iii. 


OF  THE  SRA  AND  TIIK  ROCKIES. 


55 


comparative  indifference,  because  tliey  never  met, 
and  were  never  more  expected  to  meet — the  blank, 
annually  left  gaping,  being  filled  up,  somehow,  by 
a  sort  of  compromise  between  bankruptcy,  charity, 
and  starvation. 

To  the  second  of  these  the  Leather  family  be- 
longed. They  had  been  brought  to  their  sad  condi- 
tion by  that  prolilic  source  of  human  misery — the 
bottle. 

To  do  the  family  justice,  it  was  only  the  father 
who  had  succumbed.  He  had  been  a  gentleman  ; 
he  was  now  a  sot.  His  wife — delicate  owing  to 
bad  treatment,  sorrow,  and  insunicient  nourishment 
— was,  ever  had  been,  and  ever  would  be,  a  lady  and 
a  Christian.  Owing  to  the  last  priceless  condition 
she  was  still  alive.  It  is  despair  that  kills,  and 
despair  had  been  banished  from  her  vocabulary  ever 
since  she  had  laid  down  the  arms  of  her  rebellion 
and  accepted  the  Saviour  of  mankind  as  her  guide 
and  consolation. 

But  sorrow,  suffering,  toil  had  not  departed  when 
the  demon  despair  fled  away.  They  had,  however, 
been  wonderfully  lightened,  and  one  of  the  brightest 
gleams  of  hope  in  her  sad  life  was  that  she  might 
possibly  be  used  as  the  means  of  saving  hev  hus- 
band. There  were  other  gleams  of  light,  however, 
one  of  the  brightest  of  them  being  that  May,  her 
only  daughter,  was  loving  and  sympathetic — or,  as 
she   sometimes   expressed  it,   ''as   good   as    gold." 


ft;,. 


5G 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


If 


»l         '»!       I 


Pi  1 


But  there  was  also  a  very  dark  spot  in  her  life : 
Shank,  her  only  son,  was  beginning  to  show  a  ten- 
dency to  tread  in  his  father's  steps. 

Many  golden  texts  were  enshrined  in  the  heart  of 
poor  Mrs.  Leather,  and  not  a  few  of  these — painted 
by  the  hand  of  May — hung  on  the  walls  of  their 
little  sitting-room,  but  the  word  to  which  she  turned 
her  eyes  in  seasons  of  profoundest  obscurity,  and 
which  served  her  as  a  sheet-anchor  in  the  midst  of 
the  wildest  storms,  was,  "  Hope  thou  in  God,  for 
thou  slialt  yd  praise  Him."  And  alongside  of  that 
text,  whenever  she  thought  of  it  or  chanced  to  look 
at  it,  there  invariably  flashed  another :  "  Immanuel, 
God  with  us." 

May  and  her  mother  were  alone  when  the  young 
men  entered ;  the  former  was  at  her  lessons,  the 
latter  busy  with  knitting-needles. 

Knitting  was  the  means  by  which  Mrs.  Leather, 
witli  constant  labour  and  inexhaustible  perseverance, 
managed  to  fill  up  the  gap  between  the  before-men- 
tioned "two  ends,"  which  her  dissolute  husband 
failed  to  draw  together.  She  could  read  or  assist 
May  with  her  lessons,  while  her  delicate  fingers, 
working  below  the  table,  performed  miraculous  gyra- 
tions with  steel  and  worsted.  To  most  male  minds, 
we  presume,  this  is  utterly  incomprehensible.  It  is 
well  not  to  attempt  the  description  of  that  v/hich 
one  does  not  understand.  The  good  lady  knitted 
socks   and  stockings,  and   mittens   and   cuffs,  and 


I 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


57 


I 


comforters,  and  other  thiugs,  in  absolutely  over- 
whelming quantities,  so  that  the  accumulation  in 
the  press  in  which  she  stored  them  was  at  times 
quite  marvellous.  Yet  that  press  never  quite  filled 
up,  owing  to  the  fact  that  there  was  an  incurable 
leak  in  it — a  sort  of  secret  channel — thro  igh  which 
tlie  products  of  her  toil  flowed  out  nearly  as  fast  as 
she  poured  them  in. 

This  leak  in  the  worsted  press,  strange  to  say, 
increased  wonderfully  just  after  the  wreck  described 
in  a  previous  chapter,  and  the  rivulet  to  which  it 
gave  rise  flowed  in  the  direction  of  the  back-door  of 
the  house,  emptying  itself  into  a  reservoir  which 
always  took  the  form  of  a  little  elderly  lady,  with  a 
plain  but  intensely  lovable  countenan^^e,  who  had 
been,  perhaps  still  was,  governess  in  a  family  in  a 
neighbouring  town  where  Mrs.  Leather  had  spent 
some  of  her  "  better  days."     Her  name  was  Molloy. 

Like  a  burglar  Miss  Molloy  came  in  a  stealtliy 
manner  at  irregular  intervals  to  the  back-door  of 
the  house,  nnd  swept  the  press  of  its  contents,  made 
them  up  into  a  bundle  of  enormous  size,  and  carried 
them  off  on  the  shoulders  of  an  appropriately  dis- 
reputable blackguard  boy — as  Shank  called  him — 
whom  she  retained  for  the  purpose.  Unlike  a  bur- 
glar, however,  Miss  Molloy  did  not  "  bolt  with  the 
swag,"  but  honestly  paid  for  everything,  from  the 
hugest  pair  of  gentlemen's  fishing  socks  to  the 
smallest  pair  of  children's  cuffs. 


58 


CHA1U.IE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


If 


What  Miss  Molloy  did  with  this  perennial  flow  of 
woollen  work,  whom  she  came  from,  where  she  went 
to,  who  discovered  her,  and  why  she  did  it,  were 
subjects  of  inquiry  which  baffled  ^ixvestigation,  and 
always  simmered  in  the  minds  of  Shank  and  May, 
though  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Leather  herself  seemed 
to  be  little  if  at  all  exercised  by  it.  At  all 
events  she  was  uncommunicative  on  the  point,  and 
her  children's  curiosity  was  never  gratified,  for  the 
mother  was  obdurate,  and,  torture  being  illegal 
at  that  time  in  England,  they  had  no  means  of 
compelling  disclosure.  It  was  sometimes  hinted  by 
Shank  that  their  little  dog  Scraggy — appropriately 
named  ! — knew  more  than  he  chose  to  tell  about 
the  subject,  for  he  was  generally  present  at  the  half- 
secret  interviews,  and  always  closed  the  scene  with 
a  sham  but  furious  assault  on  the  ever  contemptuous 
blackguard  boy.  But  Scraggy  was  faithful  to  his 
trust,  and  revealed  nothing. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am,  Mrs.  Leather, 
about  Shank's  good  fortune,"  said  Charlie,  with  a 
gentle  shake  of  the  hand,  which  Mr.  Crossley  would 
have  appreciated.  Like  the  Nasmyth  steam-ham- 
mer, which  flattens  a  ton  of  iron  or  gently  cracks  a 
hazel-nut,  our  Herculean  hero  could  accommodate 
himself  to  circumstances ;  "  as  your  son  says,  it  has 
been  a  lucky  wreck  for  us." 

"Lucky  indeed  for  him,"  responded  the  lady, 
instantly  resuming  her  knitting,  which  she  generally 


OF  THE  SEA.  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


59 


of 


kept  down  near  her  lap,  well  hidden  by  the  table, 
while  she  looked  at  her  visitor  and  talked,  "  but  not 
very  pleasant  for  those  who  have  lost  by  it." 

"Pooh!  mother,  nobody  1ms  lost  by  it,"  said 
Shank  in  his  free-and-easy  style.  "The  owners 
don't  lose,  because  of  course  it  was  insured  ;  and  the 
Insurance  Companies  can't  be  said  to  lose,  for  the 
value  of  a  small  brig  will  be  no  more  felt  by  them 
than  the  losing  of  a  pin  would  be  felt  by. yourself; 
and  the  captain  won't  lose — except  a  few  sea-gar- 
ments and  things  o'  that  kind — for  he  has  been 
appointed  to  another  ship  already.  By  the  way, 
mother,  that  reminds  me  tliat  Charlie  has  also  got  a 
situation  through  this  lucky  wreck,  for  Captain 
Stride  feels  so  grateful  that  he  has  offered  him  the 
situation  o '  supercargo  in  his  new  sliip." 

For  one.)  Mrs.  Leather's  knitting-needles  came  to 
a  sudden  stop,  and  she  looked  inquiringly  at  her 
young  friend.     So  did  May. 

"  Have  you  accepted  it  ?" 

"  Well,  yes.     I  have." 

"  I  'm  so  sorry,"  said  May  ;  "  I  don't  know  what 
Sliank  will  do  without  you." 

At  that  moment  a  loud  knocking  was  heard  at 
the  door.  May  rose  to  open  it,  and  JMrs.  Leather 
looked  anxiously  at  her  son. 

A  savage  undertoned  growl  and  an  unsteady  step 
told  all  too  plainly  that  the  head  of  the  house  had 
returned  home. 


!«' 


f  i  i 


1' 


GO 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


With  sudden  interest  in  worsted  fabrics,  which  he 
was  far  from  feeling,  Charlie  Brooke  turned  his 
back  to  the  door,  and,  leaning  forward,  took  up  an 
end  of  the  work  with  which  the  knitter  was  busy. 

"  That  's  an  extremely  pretty  pattern,  Mrs. 
Leather.  Does  it  take  you  long  to  make  things  of 
the  kind?" 

"  Not  long ;  I — I  make  a  good  many  of  them." 

She  said  this  with  hesitation,  and  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  doorway,  through  the  opening  of  whicli 
her  husband  thrust  a  shaggy  disheveled  head,  with 
dissipation  stamped  on  a  countenance  which  had 
evidently  been  handsome  once. 

But  Charlie  saw  neither  the  husband's  head  nor 
the  poor  wife's  gaze,  for  he  was  still  bending  over 
the  worsted- work  in  mild  admiration. 

Under  the  impression  that  he  had  not  been 
observed,  Mr.  Leather  suddenly  withdrew  his  head, 
and  was  heard  to  stumble  up-stairs  under  the  guid- 
ance of  May.  Then  the  bang  of  a  door,  followed  by 
a  shaking  of  the  slimly-built  house,  suggested  the 
idea  that  the  poor  man  had  flung  himself  on  his  bed. 

"  Shank  Leather,"  said  Charlie  Brooke,  that  same 
night  as  they  strolled  on  the  sea-shore,  "  you  gave 
expression  to  some  sentiments  to-day  which  I 
highly  approved  of.  One  of  them  was  '  Speak  out 
your  mind,  and  fear  nothing ! '  I  mean  to  do  so 
now,  and  expect  that  you  will  not  be  hurt  by  my 
following  your  advice." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES.  61 

"Well?"  exclaimed  Shank,  with  a  dubious 
glance,  for  he  disliked  the  seriousness  of  his  friend's 
tone. 

"Your  father "  began  Charlie. 

"  Please  don't  speak  about  him;'  interrupted  the 
other.  "  I  know  all  that  you  can  say.  His  case  is 
hopeless,  and  I  can't  bear  to  speak  about  it." 

"  Well,  I  won't  speak  about  him,  though  I  cannot 
agree  with  you  that  his  case  is  hopeless.     But  it  is 
yourself  that  I  wish  to  speak  about.     You  and  I 
are  soon  to  separate ;  it  must  be  for  a  good  long  while 
—it  may  be  for  ever.     Now  I  must  speak  out  my 
mind  before  I  go.     My  old  playmate,  school-fellow, 
and  chum,  you  have  begun  to  walk  in  your  poor 
father's  footsteps,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  if  you 
don't  turn  round  all  your  hopes  will  be  blasted— at 
least  for  this  life— perhaps  also  for  that  which  is 
to   come.     Now   don't   be   angry   or   hurt.    Shank. 
Remember  that  you  not  only  encouraged  me,  but 
advised  me  to  speak  out  my  mind." 

"  Yes,  but  I  did  not  advise  you  to  form  a  false, 
uncharitable  judgment  of  your  chum,"  returned 
Leather,  with  a  dash  of  bitterness  in  his  tone.  "  I 
admit  that  I  'm  fond  of  a  social  glass,  and  that  I 
sometimes,  thougli  rarely,  take  a  little -a  very  little 
—more  than,  perhaps,  is  necessary.  But  that  is 
very  different  from  being  a  drunkard,  which  you 
appear  to  assume  that  I  am." 
"^ay,    Shank,   I    don't  assume   that.     Wliat   I 


if* 


Ii 


.:i 


t 

\ 


1 1 


I 
1 1 


62 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


said  was  that  you  are  h^ginning  to  walk  in  your 
dear  father's  footsteps.  No  man  ever  yet  became  a 
drunkard  without  beginning.  And  I  feel  certain 
that  no  man  ever,  when  beginning,  had  the  most 
distant  intention  or  expectation  of  becoming  a 
drunkard.  Your  danger,  dear  old  fellow,  lies  in 
your  not  seeing  the  danger.  You  admit  that  you 
like  a  social  glass.  Shank,  I  candidly  make  the 
same  admission — I  like  it, — but  after  seeing  your 
father,  and  hearing  your  defence,  the  danger  has 
been  so  deeply  impressed  on  7ne,  that  from  this 
hour  I  resolve,  God  helping  me,  never  more  to  taste 
a  social  glass." 

"  Well,  Charlie,  you  know  yourself  best,"  returned 
his  friend  airily,  "  and  if  you  think  yourself  in  so 
great  danger,  of  course  your  resolve  is  a  very  pru- 
dent one ;  but  for  myself,  I  admit  that  I  see  no 
danger,  and  I  don't  feel  any  particular  weakness 
of  will  in  regard  to  temptation." 

"  Ah,  Shank,  you  remind  me  of  an  eccentric  old 
lady  I  have  heard  of  who  was  talking  with  a  friend 
about  the  difficulties  of  life.  'My  dear,'  said  the 
friend,  '  I  do  find  it  such  a  difficult  thing  to 
resist  temptation — don't  you?'  'No,'  replied  the 
eccentric  old  lady,  *  I  don't,  for  I  never  resist  temp- 
tation, I  always  give  way  to  it ! '" 

"  I  can't  c|uite  make  out  liow  your  anecdote 
applies  to  me,  Charlie." 

"  Don't  you  see  ?     You  feel  no  weakness  of  will  in 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


63 


regard  to  temptation  because  you  never  give  your 
will  an  opportunity  of  resisting  it.  You  always  give 
way  to  it.  You  see,  I  am  speaking  out  my  mind 
freely — as  you  have  advised  ! " 

"Yes,  and  you  take  the  whole  of  my  advice,  and 
fear  nothing,  else  you  would  not  risk  a  quarrel  by 
doing  so.  But  really,  my  boy,  it 's  of  no  use  your 
troubling  your  head  on  that  subject,  for  I  feel  quite 
safe,  and  I  don't  mean  to  give  in,  so  there  's  an  end 
on 't." 

Our  hero  persevered  notwithstanding,  and  for 
some  time  longer  sought  to  convince  or  move  his 
Iriend  both  by  earnest  appeal  and  light  pleasantry, 
but  to  all  appearance  without  success,  although  he 
reduced  him  to  silence.  He  left  him  at  last,  and 
went  home  meditating  on  the  truth  of  the  proverb 
that  "a  man  convinced  against  his  will  is  of  the 
same  opinion  still." 


m 


urn 


64 


CilAKLlli  TO  THE  KlibCUE  :   A  TALE 


CHArXEIl    V. 


ALL  THINGS  TO  ALL  MEN. 


Under  the  iullueuce  of  favouring  breezes  and 
bright  skies  the  Walrus  swept  gaily  over  the  ocean 
at  the  beginning  of  her  voyage,  with  "  stuns'ls  alow 
and  aloft,  royals  and  sky-scrapers,"  according  to 
Captain  Stride.  At  least,  if  these  were  not  the 
exact  words  he  used,  they  express  pretty  well  what 
he  meant,  namely,  a  "  cloud  of  canvas." 

But  this  felicitous  state  of  things  did  not  last. 
The  tropics  were  reached,  where  calms  prevailed 
with  roasting  hoat.  The  Southern  Atlantic  was 
gained,  and  gales  were  met  with.  The  celebrated 
Cape  was  doubled,  and  the  gales,  if  we  may  say  so, 
were  trebled.  The  Indian  Ocean  was  crossed,  and 
the  China  Seas  were  entered,  where  typhoons  blew 
some  of  the  sails  to  ribbons,  and  snapped  off  the  top- 
mas  id  like  pipe-stems.  Then  she  sailed  into  the 
great  Pacific,  and  for  a  time  the  Walrus  sported 
pleasantly  among  the  coral  islands. 

During  all  this  time,  and  amid  all  these  changes, 
Charlie   Brooke,   true   to    his   character,   was    the 


i 


■led 


the 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


65 


busiest  and  most  active  man  on  board.  Not  tliat 
his  own  special  duties  gave  him  much  to  do,  for, 
until  the  vessel  sliould  reach  port,  these  were  rather 
light ;  but  our  hero — as  Stride  expressed  it—"  must 
always  be  doing."  If  he  had  not  work  to  do  he 
made  it — chielly  in  the  way  of  assisting  other 
people.  Indeed  there  was  scarcely  a  man  or  boy  on 
board  who  did  not  liave  the  burden  of  his  toil,  what- 
ever it  was,  lightened  in  consequence  of  young 
Brooke's  tendency  to  put  his  powerful  shoulder 
voluntarily  to  the  vdieel.  He  took  the  daily  obser- 
vations with  the  captain,  and  worked  out  the  ship's 
course  during  the  previous  twenty-four  hours.  He 
handled  the  adze  and  saw  with  the  carpenter, 
learned  to  knot  and  splice,  and  to  sew  canvas  with 
the  bo's'n's  mate,  commented  learnedly  and  interest- 
ingly on  the  preparation  of  food  with  the  cook,  and 
spun  yarns  with  the  men  on  the  forecastle,  or  listened 
to  the  long-winded  stories  of  the  captain  and 
officers  in  the  cabin.  He  was  a  splendid  listener, 
being  much  more  anxious  to  ascertain  exactly  the 
opinions  of  his  friends  and  mates  than  to  advance 
his  own.  Of  course  it  followed  that  Charlie  was 
a  favourite. 

With  his  insatiable  desire  to  acquire  information 
of  every  kind,  he  had  naturally,  when  at  home, 
learned  a  little  rough-and-tumble  surgery,  with  a 
slight  smattering  of  medicine.  It  was  not  much, 
but  it  proved  to  be  useful  as  far  as  it  went,  and  his 

E 


I! 


I 


GG 


CHARLIE  TO  TIIR  RESCUK  :    A  TALK 


"little  knowledge"  was  not  ■  dangerous,"  because  lie 
modestly  refused  to  go  a  single  step  beyond  it  in 
the  way  of  practice,  unless,  indeed,  he  was  urgently 
pressed  to  do  so  by  his  patients.  I  n  virtue  of  his 
attainments,  real  and  supposed,  he  came  to  be  re- 
cognised as  the  doctor  of  the  shij),  for  the  IVcdrus 
carried  no  medical  man. 

"  Look  here,  Brooke,"  said  the  only  passenger 
on  board — a  youth  of  somewhat  delicate  con- 
stitution, who  was  making  tlie  voyage  for  the 
sake  of  his  health, — "  I  've  got  horrible  toothache. 
D'you  think  you  can  do  anything  for  me?" 

"Let's  liave  a  look  at  it,"  said  Cliarlie,  with 
kindly  interest,  though  lie  felt  half  inclined  to 
smile  at  the  intensely  lugubrious  expression  of  the 
youth's  face. 

"  Why,  Kay  wood,  that  is  indeed  a  bad  tooth  ; 
nothing  that  I  know  of  will  improve  it.  There  's 
a  cavern  in  it  big  and  black  enough  to  call  to 
remembrance  the  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta !  A' 
red-hot  wire  might  destroy  tli(?  nerve,  but  I  never 
saw  one  used,  and  should  not  like  to  try  it." 

"  Horrible !  "  exclaimed  Ray  wood.  "  1  've  been 
mad  with  pain  all  the  morning,  and  can't  afford  to 
be  driven  madder.  Perhaps,  somewhere  or  other  in 
the  ship  there  may  be  a — a — thingumy." 

"  A  whatumy  ? "  inquired  the  other. 

"  A  key,  or — or — pincers,"  groaned  Kay  wood,  "  for 
extracting — oh  !  man,  couldn't  you  pull  it  out  ? " 


I 


OF  THK  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


67 


"  Easily,"  said  Charlie,  with  a  smile.  "  I  've  got 
a  pair  of  forceps — always  carry  them  in  case  of 
need,  but  never  use  them  unless  the  patient  is 
very  bad,  and  rmist  have  it  out." 

Poor  Ray  wood  protested,  with  another  groan,  that 
his  was  a  case  in  point,  and  it  must  come  out ;  so 
Charlie  sought  for  and  found  his  forceps. 

"It  won't  take  long,  I  suppose?"  said  the  patient 
rather  nervously,  as  he  opened  his  moutli. 

"  Oh  no.     Only  a  moment  or " 

A  fearful  yell,  followed  by  a  gasp,  announced  to 
the  whole  ship's  company  that  a  crisis  of  some  sort 
had  been  passed  by  some  one,  and  the  expert  thougli 
amateur  dentist  congratulated  his  patient  on  his 
deliverance  from  the  enemy. 

Only  three  of  the  ship's  company,  however,  had 
witnessed  the  operation.  One  was  Dick  Darvall, 
the  seaman  who  chanced  to  be  steering  at  the  time, 
and  wlio  could  see  through  the  open  skylight  what 
was  being  enacted  in  the  cabin.  Another  was  the 
captain,  who  stood  beside  him.  The  third  was  the 
cabin-boy,  Will  Ward,  who  chanced  to  be  cleaning 
some  brasses  about  the  skylight  at  the  time,  and 
was  transfixed  by  what  we  may  style  delightfully- 
horrible  sensations.  These  three  watched  the  pro- 
ceedings with  profound  interest,  some  sympathy, 
and  not  a  little  amusement. 

"Mind  your  helm,  Darvall,"  said  the  Captain, 
stifling  a  laugh  as  the  yell  referred  to  burst  on  his  ears. 


68 


CIIAULIE  TO  TIIK  UESCUE  :    A  TALK 


"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  responded  the  seaiiioii,  bringing 
his  mind  back  to  his  duty,  as  he  bestowed  a  wink 
on  the  brass-polishing  cabin-boy. 

"  He 's  up  to  everything,"  said  Darvall  in  a  low 
voice,  referring  to  our  hero. 

"  From  pitch-and-toss  to  manslaughter,"  responded 
the  boy,  with  a  broad  grin. 

"  I  do  believe,  Mr.  J3rooke,  that  you  can  turn  your 
hand  to  anything,"  said  Captain  Stride,  as  Charlie 
came  on  deck  a  few  minutes  later.  "  Did  you  ever 
study  doctoring  or  surgery  ? " 

"  Not  regularly,"  answered  Charlie ;  "  but  oc- 
casionally I  've  had  the  chance  of  visiting  hospitals 
and  dissecting-rooms,  besides  hearing  lectures  on 
anatomy,  and  I  have  taken  advantage  of  my  oppor- 
tunities. Besides,  I  'm  fond  of  mechanics ;  and 
tooth-drawing  is  somewhat  mechanical.  Of  course 
I  make  no  pretension  to  a  knowledge  of  regular 
dentistry,  which  involves,  I  believe,  a  scientific  and 
prolonged  education." 

"  May  be  so,  Mr.  Brooke,"  returned  the  captain, 
"but  your  knowledge  seems  deep  and  extensive 
enough  to  me,  for,  except  in  the  matter  o'  navigation, 
I  haven't  myself  had  much  schoolin',  but  I  do  like  to 
see  a  fellow  that  can  use  his  hands.  As  I  said  to 
my  missus,  not  two  days  before  I  left  'er  :  '  INIaggie,' 
says  I,  *  a  man  that  can't  turn  his  hands  to  anything 
ain't  worth  his  salt.  For  wliy?  He's  useless  at  sea, 
an',  by  consequence,  can't  be  of  much  value  on  land.'" 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  UOCKIKS. 


09 


"  Your  reasoning  is  unanswerable,"  returned 
Charlie,  witli  a  laugli. 

"Not  so  sure  o'  tliat,"  rejoined  the  captain,  with 
a  modestly  dubious  shake  of  his  liead ;  "  leastwise, 
however  unanswerable  it  may  be,  my  missus  always 
manages  to  nnswer  it — somehow." 

At  that  moment  one  of  the  sailors  came  aft  to 
relieve  the  man-at-the-wheel. 

Dick  Darvall  was  a  grave,  tall,  dark,  and  hand- 
some man  of  about  five-and-tweu/"^,  with  a  huge 
black  beard,  as  fine  a  seaman  as  one  could  wish  to 
see  standing  at  a  ship's  helm,  but  he  limped  when 
he  left  his  post  and  went  forward. 

"How's  the  leg  to-day,  Darvall?"  asked  young 
Brooke,  as  the  man  passed. 

"  Better,  sir,  thankee." 

"That's  well.  I '11  change  the  dressing  in  half- 
an-hour.     Don't  disturb  it  till  I  come." 

"  Thank'^e,  sir,  I  won't." 

"  Now  then,  Eaywood,"  said  Charlie,  descending 
to  the  cabin,  where  his  patient  was  already  busy 
reading  Maury's  Physical  Geography  of  the  Sea, 
"  let 's  have  a  look  at  the  "um." 

"  Oh,  it 's  all  right,"  said  Haywood.  "  D'  you  know, 
I  think  one  of  the  uses  of  severe  pain  is  to  make 
one  inexpressibly  thankful  for  the  mere  absence  of 
it.  Of  course  there  is  a  little  sensation  of  pain 
left,  which  might  make  me  growl  at  other  times,  but 
that  positively  feels  comfortable  now  by  contrast ! " 


70 


CHARLIE  TO  THK  IIKSGUE:    A  TALE 


n^'i 


"  Tliere  !>>  protbiuitl  sagaciL}  in  your  ubservatious," 
returned  Charlie,  as  he  gave  the  gum  a  squeeze  that 
for  a  moment  or  two  removed  the  comfort;  "  there, 
now,  don't  suck  it,  else  you'll  renew  tl.o  bleeding. 
Keep  your  mouth  shut." 

With  this  caution  the  amateur  dentist  left  the 
cabin,  and  proceeded  to  the  fore-part  of  the  vessel. 
In  passing  tlie  steward's  pantry  a  youthful  voice 
arrested  him. 

"  Oh,  please,  sir,"  said  Will  Ward,  the  cabin-boy, 
advancing  with  a  slate  in  his  hand,  "  1  can't  make 
out  the  sum  you  set  me  yesterday,  an'  1  'm  quite 
sure  I  've  tried  and  tried  as  hard  as  ever  I  could  to 
understand  it." 

"Let  me  see,"  said  his  friend,  taking  the  slate 
and  sitting  down  on  a  iocker.  "Have  you  read 
over  the  rule  carefully  ?  '* 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have,  a  dozen  limes  at  least,  but  it 
won't  come  right,"  answered  the  boy,  with  wrinkles 
enough  on  his  young  brow  to  indicate  the  very 
depths  of  puzzlement. 

"  Fetch  the  book.  Will,  and  let 's  examine  it." 

The  book  was  brought,  and  at  his  teacher's  re- 
i[uest  the  boy  read : — 

"Add  the  inte?'est  to  the  principal,  and  then 
multiply  by " 

"Multiply]"  said  Charlie,  interrupting.     "Look!" 

He  pointed  to  the  sum  on  the  slate,  and  repeated 
"  multiply." 


II  i 


fJF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  ROCKIEi^. 


71 


"  Oh  ! "  exclaimed  the  cabin-boy,  with  a  gasp  of 
relief  and  wide-open  eyes,  "  I  've  divided ! " 

"  That 's  so,  Will,  and  there 's  a  considerable  differ- 
ence between  division  and  multiplication,  as  you  '11 
find  all  through  life,"  remarked  the  teacher,  with  a 
peculiar  lift  of  his  eyebrows,  as  he  handed  back  the 
slate  and  went  on  his  way. 

More  than  once  in  his  progress  "  fur'ard  "  he  was 
arrested  by  men  who  wished  him  to  give  advice,  or 
clear  up  difficulties  in  reference  lo  subjects  which 
his  encouragement  or  example  had  induced  them  to 
'  take  up,  and  to  these  claims  on  his  attention  or 
assistance  he  accorded  such  a  ready  and  cheerful 
response  that  his  pupils  felt  it  to  be  a  positive 
pleasure  to  appeal  to  him,  though  they  each  pro- 
fessed to  regret  giving  him  "  trouble."  The  boat- 
swain, who  was  an  amiable  though  gruff  man  in  his 
way,  expressed  pretty  well  the  feelings  of  the  ship's 
"•ompany  towards  our  hero  when  he  said :  "  I  tell 
you,  mates,  I  'd  sooner  be  rubbed  up  the  wrong  way, 
an'  kicked  down  the  fore  hatch  by  Mr.  Brooke,  than 
T  'd  be  smoothed  or  buttered  by  anybody  else." 

At  last  the  fo'c'sl  was  reached,  and  there  our 
surgeon  fpurid  his  patient,  Dick  Darvall,  awaiting 
him.  The  stout  seaman's  leg  had  been  severely 
bruised  by  a  block  which  had  fallen  from  aloft  and 
struck  it  during  one  of  the  recent  gales. 

"  A  good  deal  better  to-day,"  said  Charlie.  "  Does 
it  paia  you  much?" 


m 


■^"■f\-^bLiiii,iii>AJf\^^Si*iSiLUa--  ^ii£Mtaa^lfiitfiiAli:^tMViy--iii.v*y!,^-x.k^'- 


72 


CHAltLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


!  'i 


,_.     i 


"  Not  nearly  as  miicli  as  it  did  yesterday,  sir.  It 's 
my  opinion  that  I  '11  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two. 
Seems  to  me  outrageous  to  make  so  much  ado 
about  it." 

"If  we  didn't  take  care  of  it,  my  man,  it  might 
cost  you  your  limb,  and  we  can't  afford  to  bury 
such  a  well-made  member  before  its  time!  You 
must  give  it  perfect  rest  for  a  day  or  two.  I  '11 
speak  to  the  captain  about  it." 

"  I  'd  rather  you  didn't,  sir,"  objected  the  seaman. 
"  I  feel  able  enough  tc  go  about,  and  my  mates  '11 
think  I  'm  shirkin'  dooty." 

*-'  There 's  not  a  man  a- board  as  '11  think  that  o' 
Dick  Darvall,"  growled  the  boatswain,  who  had  just 
entered  and  heard  tlie  last  remark. 

"  Eight,  bo's'n,"  said  Brooke,  "  you  have  well  ex- 
pressed the  thought  that  came  into  n^y  own  head." 

"Have  ye  seen  Samson  yet,  sir?"  asked  the 
boatswain,  with  an  unusually  grave  look. 

"  No ;  I  was  just  going  to  inquire  about  him.  No 
v.'orse;  T  hope  ? " 

"  I  think  he  is,  sir.  Seems  to  me  that  he  ain't 
long  for  this  world.  The  life's  bin  too  much  for 
him :  he  never  was  cut  out  for  a  sailor,  an'  he  takes 
things  so  much  to  heart  that  I  do  believe  worry  is 
doin'  more  than  work  to  drive  him  on  the  rocks." 

"  I  '11  go  and  see  him  at  once,"  said  our  hero. 

Fred  Samson,  the  sick  man  referred  to,  had  been 
put  into  a  swing-cot  in  a  berth  amidships  to  give 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIER. 


73 


I't 

jr 
les 

is 


ni 


liim  as  mucli  rest  as  possible.  To  all  appearance 
he  was  slowly  dying  of  consumption.  When  Brooke 
entered  he  was  leaning  on  one  elbow,  gazing  wist- 
fully through  the  port-hole  close  to  his  head.  His 
countenance,  on  which  the  stamp  of  death  was 
evidently  imprinted,  wa,s  unusually  refined  for  one 
in  his  station  in  life. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  have  come,  Mr.  Brooke,"  he  said 
slowly,  as  his  visitor  advanced  and  took  his  thin 
hand. 

"  My  poor  fellow,"  said  Charlie,  in  a  tone  of  low 
but  tender  sympathy,  "  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  T 
could  do  you  an/  good." 

"  The  sight  of  your  kind  face  does  me  good/' 
returned  the  sailor,  with  a  pause  for  breath  between 
almost  every  other  word.  "  I  don't  want  you  to 
doctor  me  any  more.  I  feel  that  I  'm  past  that,  but 
I  want  to  give  you  a  message  and  a  packet  for  my 
mother.  Of  course  you  will  be  in  London  when 
you  return  to  England.  "Will  you  find  her  out  and 
deliver  the  packet  ?  It  contains  only  the  Testament 
she  gave  me  at  parting  and  a  letter." 

"My  dear  fellow — you  may  depend  on  me," 
replied  Brooke  earnestly.     "Where  does  she  live?" 

"In  Whitechapel.  The  full  address  is  on  the 
packet.  The  letter  enclosed  tells  all  that  I  have  to 
say." 

"  But  you  spoke  of  a  message,'  said  Brooke,  seeing 
that  he  paused  and  shut  his  eyes. 


farwmmmmmsmmsmsBBBMSi 


II 


HB 


74 


CIIARLIK  TO  THE  KERCUK  :   A  TALE 


I;  i 


UV 


In 


"  Yes,  yes,"  returned  tlie  dying  man  eagerly,  "  I 
forgot.  Crive  Iip^  my  dear  love,  and  say  that  my 
last  thoughts  were  of  herself  and  God.  She  always 
feared  that  I  was  trusting  too  much  in  myself — in 
my  own  good  resolutions  and  reformation ;  so  I 
have  been — but  that's  pas^.  Tell  her  that  God  in 
His  mercy  has  snapped  that  broken  reed  altogether, 
and  enabled  me  to  rest  n:y  soul  on  .Tpjus." 

As  the  dying  man  was  much  exhausted  by  his 
efforts  to  speak,  his  visitor  refrained  from  asking 
more  questions.  He  merely  whispered  a  comforting 
text  of  Scripture  and  left  him  apparently  sinking 
into  a  state  of  repose. 

Then,  having  bandaged  the  linger  of  a  man  who 
had  carelessly  cut  himself  whil^  using  his  knife 
aloft,  Charlie  returned  to  the  cabin  to  continue  an 
interrupted  discussion  with  the  first  mate  on  the 
subject  of  astronomy. 

From  all  which  it  will  be  seen  thai  our  hero's 
tendencies  inclined  him  to  be  as  much  as  possible 
'*  all  thinjrs  to  all  men." 


'W 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  RUCKIES. 


76 


CHAPTER    VI. 

niSASTKR,  STARVATION,  AND  DKATH. 

The  least  observant  of  mortals  must  liave 
frequently  been  impressed  with  the  fact  that  events 
and  incidents  of  an  apparently  trifling  description 
often  lead  to  momentous  — sometimes  tremendous 
— results. 

Soon  after  the  occurrence  of  the  incidents  referred 
to  in  the  last  chapter,  a  colony  of  busy  workers  in 
thd  Pacific  Ocean  were  drawing  towards  the  com- 
pletion  of   a   building   on   which   they   had    been 
engaged  for  a  long  time.      Like  some'  lighthouses 
this  building  had  its  foundations  on  a  rock  at  the 
bottom   of  the   sea.      Steadily,  perseveringly,  and 
with  little    cessation,  the  workers   had   toiled   for 
years.      They  were    small   insignificant   creatures, 
each  being  bent  on  simply  performing  the  little  bit 
of  work  which  he,  she,  or  it  had  been  created  to  do 
probably  v/ithout  knowing  or  caring  what  the  result 
might  be,  and  then  ending  his,  her,  or  its  modest 
labours  with  life,     It  was  when  this  marine  build- 
ina-  had  risen   to  within   eight  or  ten   feet  of  the 


70 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :  A  TALE 


surface  of  the  sea  that  the  Walrus  chanced  to  draw 
near  to  it,  but  no  one  on  board  was  aware  of  the 
existence  of  that  coral-reef,  for  up  to  the  period  we 
write  of  it  had  failed  to  attract  the  attention  of 
chart -makers. 

The  vessel  was  bowling  along  at  a  moderate  rate 
over  a  calm  sea,  for  the  light  breeze  overhead  that 
failed  to  ruffle  the  water  filled  her  topsails.  Had 
the  wind  been  stormy  a  line  of  breakers  would  have 
indicated  the  dangerous  reef.  As  it  was  there  was 
nothing  to  tell  that  the  good  ship  was  rushing  on 
her  doom  till  she  struck  with  a  violent  shock  and 
remained  fast. 

Of  course  Captain  Stride  was  equal  to  the  emer- 
gency. By  the  quiet  decision  with  which  he  went 
about  and  gave  his  orders  he  calmed  the  fears  of 
such  of  his  crew  as  were  apt  to  "  lose  their  heads  " 
in  the  midst  of  sudden  catastrophe. 

"  Lower  away  the  boats,  lads.  We  '11  get  her 
off  right  away,"  he  said,  in  a  quick  but  quiet 
tone. 

Charlie  Brooke,  being  a  strong  believer  in  strict 
discipline,  at  once  ran  to  obey  the  order,  accom- 
panied by  the  most  active  among  the  men,  while 
others  ran  to  slack  off  the  sheets  and  lower  the 
topsails. 

In  a  few  minutes  nearly  all  the  men  were  in  the 
boats,  with  hawsers  fixed  to  the  stern  of  the  vessel, 
doing  their  uttermost  to  pull  her  off. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


77 


the 

^ssel, 


ChaT-lie  had  been  ordered  to  remoiu  on  deck  when 
the  crew  took  to  the  boats. 

"  Come  here,  Mr.  Brooke,  I  want  you,"  said  the 
Captain,  leading  his  young  friend  to  the  taffrail. 
"  It 's  pretty  clear  to  me  that  the  poor  old  Walrus 
is  done  for " 

"I  sincerely  hope  not,  sir,"  said  Charlie,  with 
anxious  looks. 

"A  short  time  will  settle  the  question,"  re- 
turned the  Captain,  with  unwonted  gravity.  "  If 
she  don't  move  in  a  few  minutes,  I'll  try  what 
heaving  out  some  o*  the  cargo  will  do.  As  super- 
cargo, you  know  where  it 's  all  stowed,  so,  if  you  '11 
pint  out  to  me  which  is  the  least  valooable,  an'  at 
the  same  time  heaviest  part  of  it,  I  '11  send  the  mate 
and  four  men  to  git  it  on  deck.  But  to  tell  you  the 
truth  even  if  we  do  git  her  off  I  don't  think  she  '11 
Hoat.  She's  an  oldish  craft,  not  fit  to  have  her 
bottom  rasped  on  coral  rocks.  But  we'll  soon 
see." 

Charlie  could  not  help  observing  that  there  was 
something  peculiarly  sad  in  the  tone  of  the  old 
man's  voice.  Whether  it  was  that  the  poor  captain 
knew  the  case  to  be  utterly  hopeless,  or  that  he  was 
overwhelmed  by  this  calamity  coming  upon  him  so 
soon  after  the  wreck  of  liis  last  ship,  Charlie  could 
not  tell,  but  he  had  no  time  to  think,  for  after  he  had 
pointed  out  to  the  mate  the  bales  that  could  be  most 
easily  spared  he  was  again  summoned  aft. 


.c:,i£-,v>i?,idffi.iiaiiiV';\i4'w 


78 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


"She  don't  move,"  said  the  captain,  gloomily. 
"  We  must  git  the  boats  ready,  for  if  it  comes  on  to 
blow  only  a  little  harder  we  '11  have  to  take  to  'em. 
So  do  you  and  the  stooard  putt  your  heads  together 
an'  git  up  as  much  provisions  as  you  think  thu 
boats  will  safely  carry.  Only  necessaries,  of  course, 
an'  take  plenty  o'  water.  I  '11  see  to  it  that  charts, 
compasses,  canvas,  and  other  odds  and  ends  are 
ready.". 

Again  young  Brooke  went  off,  without  saying  a 
word,  to  carry  out  his  instructions.  Meanwhile  one 
of  the  boats  was  recalled,  and  her  crew  set  to  lighten 
the  ship  by  heaving  part  of  the  cargo  overboard. 
Still  the  Walrvs  remained  immovable  on  the  reef, 
for  the  force  witli  which  she  struck  had  sent  her 
high  upon  it. 

"  If  we  have  to  take  to  the  boats,  sir,"  said  Charlie, 
when  he  was  disengaged,  "  it  may  be  well  to  put 
some  medicines  on  board,  for  poor  Samson  will " 

"  Ay,  ay,  do  so,  lad,"  said  the  captain,  interrupt- 
ing ;  "  I  've  been  thinkin'  o'  that,  an'  you  may  as 
well  rig  up  some  sort  o'  couch  for  the  poor  fellow 
in  the  long-boat,  for  I  mean  to  take  him  nloiig  wi' 
myself." 

"  Are  yo'i  so  sure,  then,  that  there  is  no  chance  of 
our  getting  her  off?" 

"Quite  sure.  Look  there."  He  pointed,  as  he 
spoke,  to  the  horizon  to  windward,  where  a  line  of 
cloud  rested  on  the  sea.     That'll  not  be  long  o' 


t-ismmmiisi^miimiMmMSMss..s^BmtitM*iiM^-^>,.^i:::^u^.y: 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  l{OrKIES. 


79 


wi 


■('  01 


ooiniii'  here.  It  wou't  blow  very  hard,  but  it  11  be 
hard  enough  to  smash  the  old  Walrus  to  bits.  If 
you  've  got  any  valooables  aboard  tliat  you  'd  rather 
not  lose,  you  'd  better  stuff  'em  in  your  pockets  now. 
When  things  come  to  the  wust  mind  your  helm,  an' 
look  out,  as  I  used  to  say  to  my  missus " 

He  stopped  id)ru])tly  and  turned  away.  Evidently 
tlie  thouglit  of  the  "  missus "  was  too  much  for 
him  just  then. 

Charlie  Brooke  liurried  off  to  visit  the  sick  man, 
and  prepare  him  for  the  sad  change  in  his  position 
that  had  now  become  unavoidable.  But  another 
visitor  had  been  to  see  the  invalid  before  him. 
Entering  the  berth  softly,  and  witli  a  quiet  look,  so 
as  not  to  agitate  the  patient  needlessly,  he  found  to 
his  regret,  thougli  not  surprise,  that  poor  Fred  Sam- 
son was  dead.  There  was  a  smile  on  the  pale  face, 
which  was  turned  towards  the  port  window,  as  if 
the  dying  man  had  been  taking  a  last  look  of  the 
sea  and  sky  when  Deatli  laid  a  liand  gently  on  his 
brow  and  smootlied  away  the  wrinkles  of  suffering 
and  care.  A  letter  from  his  mother,  held  tightly  in 
one  hand  and  pressed  upon  liis  breast  told  elo- 
quently what  was  the  subject  of  his  last  thoughts. 

Charlie  cut  a  lock  of  hair  from  the  sailor's  brow 
with  his  clasp-kiiife,  and,  taking  the  letter  gently 
from  the  dead  hand,  wrapped  it  therein. 

"  There 's  no  time  to  bury  him  now.  His  berth 
must  be  the  poor  fellow's  coffin,"  said  Captain  Stride, 


ii.  i 


80 


CUAIILTE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


i' 


when  the  death  was  reported  to  hiin.  "  The  swell 
o'  the  coming  squall  has  reached  iis  already.  Look 
alive  wi'  the  boats,  men  !  ' 

By  that  time  the  rising  swell  was  in  truth  lifting 
the  vessel  every  few  seconds  and  letting  her  down 
with  a  soft  thud  on  the  coral  reef.  It  soon  became 
evident  to  every  one  on  board  that  the  Walrus  had 
not  many  hours  to  live — perhaps  not  many  minutes 
— for  the  squall  to  which  the  Captain  had  referred 
was  rapidly  bearing  down,  and  each  successive  thud 
became  more  violent  than  the  previous  one.  Know- 
ing their  danger  full  well,  the  men  worked  with  a 
will  and  in  a  few  minutes  three  boats,  well  pro- 
visioned, were  floating  on  the  sea. 

The  need  for  haste  soon  became  apparent,  for  the 
depth  of  water  alongside  was  so  insufficient  that  the 
long-boat — drawing  as  she  did  considerably  more 
water  than  the  others —touched  twice  when  the 
swells  let  her  drop  into  their  hollows. 

It  was  arranged  that  Charlie  should  go  in  the 
long-boat  with  the  captain,  Eaywood  the  passenger, 
and  ten  men  of  the  crew.  The  remainder  were  to 
be  divided  between  the  other  two  boats  which  were 
to  be  in  charge  of  the  first  and  second  officers 
respectively. 

"  Jump  in,  Brooke,"  cried  the  Captain,  as  he  sat 
in  the  stern-sheets  looking  up  at  our  hero,  who 
was  busily  engaged  assisting  the  first  mate  to  com- 
plete the  arrangements  of  his  boat,  "  we  've  strucK 


!■. 


!:.(:.  r..i..L;.t:it^i:inarjUfjuij(U.T«^-i:iij4-.fifJivfjr.fr.(rm7grJ7y.g(JfD7ffrr^ 


OF  TIIK  SKA   AXIi   IIIE  JJOGKIKS. 


81 


twice  already.  I  rmist  shove  off.  Is  lIay^vo()ll 
ready  ? " 

"He 'sin  tlin  cabin  looking  for  sonieLliiiig,  sir;  I  '11 
run  and  fetch  him." 

"Stay!  We've  touched  again!"  shouted  the 
Captain.  '"  You  an'  liaywood  can  come  off  with  one 
o'  the  other  boats.  1  '11  take  you  on  board  when  in 
deep  water — shove  ofl',  lads." 

"Jump  in  with  me,  sir,"  said  the  tirst  mate,  as  he 
hastily  descended  the  side. 

"Come  along,  liay wood,"  shouted  Charlie,  as  he 
followed.     "  No  time  to  lose  ! " 

The  passenger  rushed  on  deck,  scrambled  down 
the  side,  and  took  his  seat  beside  Charlie,  just  as  the 
long  threatened  S([uall  burst  upon  them. 

The  painter  was  cut,  and  they  drifted  into  deep 
water  with  the  second  mate's  boat,  which  had  alreadv 
cast  off. 

I'ortunate  was  it  for  the  whole  crew  that  Captain 
Stride  had  provided  for  every  emergency,  and  that, 
among  other  safeguards,  he  had  put  several  tarpau- 
lins into  each  boat,  for  with  these  they  were 
enabled  to  form  a  coverinL-'  which  turned  off  the 
waves  and  prevented  their  being  swamped.  The 
squall  turned  out  to  be  a  very  severe  one,  and  in 
the  midst  of  it  the  three  boats  were  so  far  separated 
that  the  prospect  of  their  being  able  to  draw 
together  again  until  evening  was  very  remote. 
Indeed  the  waves  soon  ran  so  high  that  it  rcc^uircd 

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CHARLIE  TO  THK  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


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the  utmost  attention  of  each  steersniiin  to  keep  his 
craft  afloat,  and  when  at  last  the  light  began  to  fade 
the  boats  were  almost  out  of  sight  of  eaca  other. 

"  Nr  chance,  I  fear,  of  our  ever  meeting  again," 
remarked  the  mate,  as  he  cast  a  wistful  look  at  the 
southern  horizon  where  the  sail  of  the  long-boat 
could  be  barely  seen  like  the  wing  of  a.  sea-gull. 
"Your  lot  has  been  cast  with  us,  Mr.  Brooke,  so 
you  '11  have  to  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  I  always  try  to  make  the  best  of  things,"  replied 
Charlie.  "  My  chief  regret  at  present  is  that  Eay- 
wood  and  I,  being  two  extra  hands,  will  help  to 
consume  your  provisions  too  fast." 

"  Luckily  my  appetite  is  a  poor  one,"  said  Kay- 
wood,  with  a  faint  smile ;  "  and  it 's  not  likely  to 
improve  in  the  circumstant  es."' 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  o'  that,  sir,"  returned  the  mate, 
with  an  air  that  was  meant  to  be  reassuring ;  "  fresh 
air  and  exposure  have  effected  wonders  before  now 
in  the  matter  of  health — so  they  say.  Another  pull 
on  the  halyards,  Dick  ;  that  looks  like  a  fresh  squall. 
IMind  your  sheets.  Will  Ward." 

A  prompt "  Ay,  ay,  sir "  from  Dick  Darvall  and 
the  cabin-boy  showed  that  each  was  alive  to  the 
importance  of  the  duty  required  of  him,  while  the 
other  men — of  whom  there  were  six — busied  them- 
selves in  making  the  tarpaulin  coverings  more 
secure,  or  in  baling  out  the  water  which,  in  spite  of 
them,  had  found  its  way  into  the  boat. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


83 


Charlie  rose  and  seated  himself  on  the  thwart 
beside  the  fine-looking  seaman  Dick  Da^vall,  so  as 
to  have  a  clearer  view  ahead  nnder  the  sail. 

"Long-boat  nowhere  to  be  seen  now,"  he  mur- 
mured half  to  himself  after  a  long  look. 

"  No,  sir— nor  the  other  boat  either,"  said  Darvall 
in  a  quiet  voice.  "We  shall  never  see  'em  no 
more." 

"I  hope  you  are  wrong,"  returned  Charlie ;  "in- 
deed I  feel  sure  that  the  weather  will  clear  duriiiir 
the  night,  and  that  we  sliall  find  both  boats  becalmed 
not  far  off." 

"  Maybe  so,  sir,"  rejoined  the  sailor,  in  the  tone 
of  one  willing  to  be,  but  not  yet,  convinced. 

Our  hero  was  right  as  to  the  first,  but  not  as  to 
tlie  second,  point.  The  weather  did  clear  during  the 
night,  but  when  the  sun  arose  next  morning  on  a 
comparatively  calm  sea  neither  of  the  other  boats 
was  to  be  seen.  In  fact  every  object  that  could 
arrest  the  eye  had  vanished  from  the  scene,  leaving 
only  a  great  circular  shield  of  blue,  of  which  their 
tiny  craft  formed  the  centre. 


1 

J 

t 

1 

] 

i 

;  i 

84 


CIIAULIE  TO  THE  KESCUK :    A  TALE 


lit 


. 


.:i 


CHATTEK    VII. 


ADRIFT  ON  THK   SKA. 


"You  are  ill,  Will  Ward,"  was  Dick  Darvall's 
first  remark  when  there  was  sufficient  daylight  to 
distinguish  faces. 

"You're  another!"  was  the  cabin-boy's  quick, 
facetious  retort,  which  caused  Darvall  to  smile  aiitl 
had  the  effect  of  rousin^r  the  halt-sleeping  crew. 

"But  you  are  ill,  my  boy,"  repeated  the  seaman 
earnestly. 

"No,  Dick,  not  exactly  ill,"  returned  Will,  with  a 
faint  smile,  "  but  T  'm  queer." 

Each  man  had  spent  that  stormy  night  on  the 
particular  thwart  on  which  he  had  chanced  to  sit 
down  when  he  first  entered  the  boat,  so  that  all  were 
looking  more  or  less  weary,  but  seamen  are  used  to 
uncomfortable  and  interrujjted  slumbers.  They 
soon  roused  themselves  and  began  to  look  about  and 
make  a  few  comments  on  the  weather.  Some,  re- 
curring naturally  to  their  beloved  indulgence,  pulled 
out  their  pipes  and  filled  them. 

"Have  'ee  a  light,  Jim  ? "  asked  a  rugged  man,  in 
a  sleepy  tone,  of  a  comrade  behind  him. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  HOOKIES. 


85 


"  No,  Jack,  I  haven't,"  answered  Jim,  in  u  less 
sleepy  tone,  slapping  nil  his  pockets  and  thrnstiiig 
his  jiands  into  them. 

"  Have  you,  Dick  ? "  asked  the  rugged  man  in 
some  anxiety. 

"No,  I  haven't,"  replied  Darvall,  in  a  very  serious 
voice,  as  he  also  took  to  slapping  his  pockets  ;  "  no 
— nor  baccy  ! " 

It  was  curious  to  note  at  this  point  how  every 
seaman  in  that  boat  became  suddenly  sympathetic 
and  wide  awake,  and  took  to  hasty,  anxious  examina- 
tion of  all  his  pockets — vest.  Jacket,  and  trousers. 
The  result  was  the  discovery  of  a  good  many  clay 
pipes,  more  or  less  blackened  and  shortened,  with  a 
few  plugs  of  tobacco,  but  not  a  single  match,  either 
fusee  or  congreve.  The  men  looked  at  each  other 
with  something  akin  to  despair. 

"  Was  no  matches  putt  on  board  wi'  the  grub  an' 
other  things  ?"  asked  Jim  in  a  solemn  tone. 

"And  no  tobacco?"  inquired  the  mate. 

No  one  could  ansv/er  in  the  affirmative.  A 
general  sigh — like  a  miniature  squall — burst  from 
the  sailors,  and  relieved  them  a  little.  Jim  put  his 
pipe  between  his  lips,  and  meekly  began,  if  we  may 
say  so,  to  smoke  his  tobacco  dry.  At  an  order  from 
the  mate  the  men  got  out  the  oars  and  began  to 
pull,  for  there  was  barely  enough  wind  to  fill  the 
sail. 

"  No  rest  for  us,  lads,  'cept  when  it  blows,"  said 


'» 


86 


CHARLIE  TO  TIIK  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


'I    B 


l« 


the  mate.  "  The  nearest  laud  tliat  I  know  of  is  five 
hundred  miles  oif  as  the  crow  flies.  We've  got  a 
compass  by  good  luck,  so  we  can  make  for  it,  but 
the  grub  on  board  won't  hold  out  for  quarter  o'  that 
distance,  so,  unless  we  fall  in  with  a  ship,  or  fish 
jump  aboard  of  us,  ye  know  what 's  before  us." 

"  Have  we  any  spirits  aboard?"  asked  the  rugged 
man,  in  a  growling,  somewhat  sulky,  voice. 

"  Hear — hear !"  exclaimed  Jim. 

"  No,  Jack,"  returned  the  mate ;  "  at  least  not  for 
the  purpose  o'  lettin'  you  have  '  a  short  life  an'  a 
merry  one.'  Now,  look  here,  men :  it  has  pleased 
Providence  to  putt  you  an'  me  in  something  of  a  fix, 
and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  we  was  to  have  some 
stiffish  experiences  before  we  see  the  end  of  it.  It 
has  also  pleased  Providence  to  putt  me  here  in 
command.  You  know  I'm  not  given  to  boastin', 
but  there  are  times  when  it  is  advisable  to  have 
plain  speakin'.  There  is  a  small  supply  of  spirits 
aboard,  and  I  just  want  to  tell  'ee — merely  as  a  piece 
of  useful  information,  and  to  prevent  any  chance  o' 
future  trouble — that  as  I've  got  charge  o'  them 
spirits  I  mean  to  keep  charge  of  'em." 

The  mate  spoke  in  a  low,  soft  voice,  without  the 
slightest  appearance  of  threat  or  determination  in 
his  manner,  but  as  he  concluded  he  unbuttoned  his 
pilot-cloth  coat,  and  pointed  to  the  butt  of  a  revolver 
which  protruded  from  one  of  his  vest  pockets. 

The  men  made  no  reply,  but  instinctively  glanced 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


87 


at  the  two  biggest  and  strongest  men  in  the  boat. 
These  were  Charlie  Brooke  and  Dick  Darvall. 
Obviously,  before  committing  themselves  further, 
they  wished,  if  possible,  to  read  in  the  faces  of  these 
two  what  they  thought  of  the  mate's  speech.  They 
failed  to  read  much,  if  anything  at  all,  for  Charlie's 
eyes  were  fixed  in  dreamy  expressionless  abstraction 
on  the  horizon,  and  Dick  was  gazing  up  into  the 
clouds,  with  a  look  of  intense  benignity — suggesting 
that  he  was  holding  pleasant  intercourse  with  any 
celestial  creatures  who  might  be  resident  there. 

Without  a  word  the  whole  crew  bent  to  their  oars, 
and  resigned  themselves  to  the  inevitable.  Perhaps 
if  each  man  had  expressed  his  true  feelings  at  that 
moment  he  would  have  said  that  he  was  glad  to 
know  there  was  a  firm  hand  at  the  helm.  For  there 
ar(^  few  things  more  uncomfortable  in  any  com- 
munity, large  or  small,  than  the  absence  of  disci- 
pline, or  the  presence  of  a  weak  will  in  a  position  of 
power. 

"  But  I  say,  Will,"  remarked  Darvall,  who  pulled 
the  stioke-oar,  "  you  really  do  look  ill.  Is  anything 
the  matter  with  'ee  V 

"  Nothin',  Dick ;  'cept  that  I  'm  tired,"  answered 
the  cabin-boy. 

"  Breakfast  will  put  that  right,"  said  our  hero  in 
an  encouraging  tone.  "Let's  feel  your  pulse. 
Ilm  !  Well,  might  be  slower.  Come,  Captain,"  he 
added,  giving  the  mate  his  new  title  as  he  turned  to 


i 


■  m 


1:11 


88 


CI  I A  RL  IK  TO  TIIK  KKSCUK  :    A  TALK 


him,  "  will    you   allow  mo   to   pre^icribc    l)reaklaRt 
ibr  this  patient  ?" 

•  "  Certainly,  JJoctor,"  returned  the  mate  cheerily. 
"  Come,  lads,  we  '11  all  have  breakfast  together." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  biscuit  and  salt  Junk 
barrels  were  opened,  and  the  mate  measured  out  au 
exactly  equal  proportion  of  food  to  each  man.  Then, 
following  the  example  of  a  celebrated  commander, 
and  in  order  to  prevent  dissatisfaction  on  the  part 
of  any  with  his  portion,  he  caused  one  of  the  men 
to  turn  his  back  on  the  food,  and,  pointing  to  one  of 
the  portions  said,  "  Who  shall  have  this  ?" 

"The  Doctor,  sir,"  returned  the  man  promptly. 

The  portion  was  immediately  handed  to  Charlie 
Brooke  amid  a  general  lauiih. 

Thus  every  portion  was  disposed  of,  and  the  men 
sat  down  to  eat  in  good-humour,  in  spite  of  the  too 
evident  fact  that  they  liad  been  at  once  placed  on 
short  allowance,  for,  when  (^ach  had  finished,  he 
assuredly  wished  for  more,  though  no  one  ventured 
to  give  expression  to  the  wish. 

The  only  exception  was  the  little  cabin-boy,  who 
made  a  brave  attempt  to  eat,  l)ut  utterly  i'ailed  at 
the  second  mouthful. 

"Come,  Will,"  said  Charlie  in  a  kindly  tone,  pre- 
tending to  misunderstand  the  state  of  matters, 
"  don't  try  to  deceive  yourself  by  prolonging  your 
breakfast.  That  won't  make  n.ore  of  it.  See,  here, 
I'm  not  up  to  eating  much  to-day,  somehow,  so  I'll 


Li'v 


or  THK  SEA  AND  THK  HOCKIKS. 


89 


lie  greatly  obliged  if  you  will  dispose  of  lialf  of  miiK? 
as  well  as  your  own.  Next  time  I  am  hungry,  and 
you  are  not,  I  '11  expect  yon  to  do  the  same." 

But  Will  Ward  could  not  be  thus  induced  to  eat. 
He  was  really  ill,  and  before  night  was  in  a  high 
fever.  You  may  be  sure  that  Dr.  Brooke,  as  every 
one  now  called  him,  did  his  best  to  help  the  little 
sufferer,  but,  of  course,  he  could  do  very  little,  for 
all  the  medicines  which  he  hud  prepared  had  been 
put  into  the  long-boat,  and,  in  a  small  open  boat, 
with  no  comf(n'ts,  no  medicines,  and  on  short  allow- 
ance of  food,  little  could  be  done,  except  to  give  the 
boy  a  space  of  the  floor  on  which  to  lie,  to  shield 
him  from  spray,  and  to  cover  him  with  blankets. 

For  a  week  the  boat  was  carried  over  the  sea  by 
a  fresh,  steady  breeze,  during  which  time  the  sun 
shone  out  frequently,  so  that  things  seemed  not  so 
wretched  as  one  might  suppose  to  the  shipwrecked 
mariners,  (^f  course  the  poor  cabin-boy  was  an 
exception.  Although  his  feverish  attack  was  u 
slight  one  he  felt  very  weak  and  miserable  after  it. 
His  appetite  began  to  return,  however,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  short  daily  allowance  would  be 
insufficient  for  him.  When  this  point  was  reached 
Dick  Darvall  one  day,  ^vhen  rations  were  being 
served  out,  ventured  to  deliver  an  opinion. 

"  Captain  and  mates  all,"  he  said,  while  a  sort  of 
bashful  smile  played  upon  his  sunburnt  features, "  it 
do  seem  to  me  that  we  should  agree,  each  man,  to 


r 


90 


CIUBI.IK  TO  TIIR  KKSCUE  :   A.  TALK 


i!i 


ij 
I 


give  up  a  share  of  our  rations  to  little  Will  Ward, 
so  that  he  may  be  able  to  feed  up  a  bit  an*  git  the 
better  o'  this  here  sickness.  We  won't  feel  the 
want  of  such  a  little  crumb  each,  an'  he  '11  be  ever 
so  much  the  better  for  it." 

"  Agreed,"  chorused  the  men,  apparently  without 
exception. 

"All  right,  lads,"  said  the  mate,  while  a  rare 
smile  lighted  up  for  a  moment  his  usually  stern 
countenance;  "when  the  need  for  such  self-denial 
comes  I  '11  call  on  ye  to  exercise  it,  but  it  ain't  called 
for  yet,  because  I  've  been  lookin'  after  the  interests 
o*  Will  Ward  while  he 's  been  ill.  Justice,  you  see, 
stands  first  o'  the  virtues  in  my  mind,  an'  it 's  my 
opinion  that  it  wouldn't  be  justice,  but  something 
very  much  the  reverse,  if  we  were  to  rob  the  poor 
boy  of  his  victuals  just  because  he  couldn't  eat 
them." 

"  Eight  you  are,  sir,"  interposed  Dick  Darvall. 

"  Well,  then,  holdin'  these  views,"  continued  the 
mate,  "  I  have  put  aside  Will  Ward's  share  every 
time  the  rations  were  served,  so  here 's  what  belongs 
to  him — in  this  keg  for  the  meat,  and  this  bag  for 
the  biscuit — ready  for  him  to  fall-to  whenever  his 
twist  is  strong  enough." 

There  were  marks  of  hearty  approval,  mingled 
with  laughter,  among  the  men  on  hearing  this,  but 
they  stopped  abruptly  and  listened  for  more  on 
observing  a  perplexed  look  on  their  leader's  face. 


I 

I 


• 


OF  Tllli  SEA  AND  TIIK  llOCKIES. 


91 


"  But  there's  something  that  puzzles  me  about  it, 
lads,"  resumed  the  mate,  "  and  it  is  th's,  that  the 
grub  has  somehow  accumulated  faster  than  I  can 
account  for,  considering  the  smallness  o'  the  addition 
to  the  lot  erch  time." 

On  hearing  this  the  men  were  a  little  surprised, 
but  Oharlie  Brooke  burst  into  a  short  laugh. 

"  Wliat!"  he  exclaimed,  "you  don't  mean  to  say 
that  the  victuals  have  taken  root  and  begun  to 
grow,  do  you?" 

"  I  don't  mean  to  say  anything,"  returned  the 
mate  quietly ;  "  but  I  'm  inclined  to  think  a  good 
deal  if  you've  no  objection.  Doctor." 

"  How  d'ee  feel  now,  Will  ?"  said  Charlie,  stooping 
forward  at  the  moment,  for  he  observed  that  the 
boy — whose  bed  was  on  the  floor  at  his  feet — had 
moved,  and  was  gazing  up  at  him  with  eyes  that 
seemed  to  have  grown  enormously  since  their  owner 
fell  sick. 

"I  feel  queer — and — and — I'm  inclined  to  think, 
too,"  returned  Will  in  a  faint  voice. 

Nothing  more  was  said  at  that  time,  for  a  sudden 
shift  in  the  wind  necessitated  a  shift  of  the  sail,  but 
Dick  Darvall  nodded  his  head  significantly,  and  it 
came  to  be  understood  that  "  Doctor "  Brooke  had 
regularly  robbed  himself  of  part  of  liis  meagre 
allowance  in  order  to  increase  the  store  of  the  cabin- 
boy.  Whether  they  were  right  in  this  conjecture 
has   never   been    distinctly   ascertained.      But   all 


I . ' 


92 


CHAKUK  TO  TIIK  KKSCFK  :   A  TALE 


iittempL.s  to  beiielit  the  boy  were  soon  iii'tei'  frustrated, 
for,  wliile  life  was  little  more  than  trembling  in  tho 
balance  with  Will  Ward,  a  gale  bnrst  npon  them 
which  sealed  his  fate. 

It  was  not  the  rougher  motion  of  tlie  boat  that 
did  it,  for  the  boy  was  used  to  that ;  nor  the  flasliing 
of  the  salt  spray  inbi  rd,  for  his  comrades  guarded 
him  to  some  extent  from  that.  During  the  alarm 
caused  by  a  wave  which  nearly  sv/amped  the  boat, 
two  of  the  crew  in  their  panic  seized  the  Hrst  things 
that  came  to  hand  and  flung  them  overboard  to  pre- 
vent their  sinking,  while  tlie  rest  baled  with  cans 
and  sou'-westers  for  their  lives.  The  portion  of 
lading  thus  sacrificed  turned  out  to  be  tlie  staff  of 
life — tlie  casks  of  biscuit  and  pork ! 

It  was  a  terrible  shock  to  these  unfortunates  when 
the  full  extent  of  the  calamity  was  understood,  and 
the  firmness  of  the  mate,  with  a  sight  of  the  revolver, 
alone  prevented  summary  vengeance  being  executed 
on  the  wretched  men  who  had  acted  so  hastily  in 
their  blind  terror. 

Only  a  small  keg  of  biscuit  remained  to  them. 
This  was  soon  expended,  and  then  the  process  ol' 
absolute  starvation  began.  Every  nook  and  cranny 
of  the  boat  was  searched  again  and  again  in  the 
hope  of  something  eatable  being  found,  but  only  a 
small  pot  of  lard — intended  probably  to  grease  the 
tackling — was  discovered.  With  a  dreadful  expres- 
sion in  their  eyes  some  of  the  men  glared  at  it,  and 


iHI! 


ov  tiif:  ska  and  tiik  kockikh. 


03 


tliercj  would,  nu  duiil)t,  have  bcuu  ;i  deadly  strugglo 
for  it  if  the  mate  had  not  said,  "  Fetcli  it  here,"  in  a 
voice  which  none  dared  to  disobey. 

It  formed  but  a  mouthful  to  each,  yet  the  poor  fel- 
lows devoured  it  with  the  greed  of  ravening  wolves, 
and  carefully  licked  their  finger's  wlien  it  was  done. 
The  little  cabin-boy  had  three  portions  allotted  to 
him,  because  Charlie  Ih'ooke  and  Dick  Darvall  added 
their  allowance  to  his  without  allowing  him  to  be 
aware  of  the  fact. 

But  the  extra  ;'llowance  ami  kindness,  alihongh 
they  added  greatly  to  his  comfort,  could  not  sta}- 
the  hand  of  Death.  Slowly  but  surely  the  Destroyer 
came  and  claimed  the  young  life.  It  was  a  sweet, 
calm  evening  when  the  summons  came.  The  sea 
was  like  glass,  with  only  that  long,  gentle  swell 
which  tells  even  in  the  profoundest  calm  of  Ocean's 
instability.  The  sky  was  intensely  blue,  save  on 
the  western  horizon,  where  the  sun  turned  it  intn 
gold.  It  seemed  as  if  all  Nature  were  quietly  indif- 
ferent to  the  surierings  of  the  shipwrecked  men, 
some  of  whom  had  reached  that  terrible  condition 
of  starvation  when  all  the  softer  feelings  of  humanity 
seem  dead,  for,  although  no  whisper  of  their  intention 
passed  their  lips,  their  looks  told  all  too  plainly  that 
they  awaited  the  death  of  the  ^abin-boy  with  im- 
patience, that  they  might  appease  the  intolerable 
pangs  of  hunger  by  resorting  to  cannibalism. 

Charlie  Brooke,  who  had    been    comforting   the 


<l 


M 


it 


li  i 


li'l 


if  ;  4 


II 


94 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


dying  lad  all  day,  and  whispering  to  him  words  of 
consolation  from  God's  book  from  time  to  time, 
knew  well  what  those  looks  meant.  So  did  the 
mate,  who  sat  grim,  gaunt,  and  silent  at  his  post, 
taking  no  notice  apparently  of  what  went  on  around 
him.  Fortunately  tlie  poor  boy  was  too  far  gone  to 
observe  the  looks  of  his  mates. 

There  was  a  cpn  of  paraffin  oil,  which  had  been 
thrown  into  the  boat  under  the  impression  that  it 
was  something  else.  This  had  been  avoided  hitherto 
by  the  starving  men,  who  deemed  it  to  be  poisonous. 
That  evening  the  man  called  Jim  lost  control  of 
himself,  seized  the  can,  and  took  a  long  draught  of 
the  oil.  Whether  it  was  the  effect  of  that  we  can- 
not tell,  but  it  seemed  to  drive  him  mad,  for  no 
sooner  had  he  swallowed  ii  than  he  uttered  a  wild 
shout,  drew  his  knife,  sprang  up  and  leaped  towards 
the  place  where  the  cabin-boy  lay. 

The  mate,  who  had  foreseen  something  of  the 
kind,  drew  and  levelled  his  revolver,  but  before  he 
could  fire  Charlie  had  caught  the  uplifted  arm, 
wrested  the  knife  from  the  man,  and  thrust  him 
violently  back.  Thus  foiled  Jim  sprang  up  again 
and  with  a  maniac's  yell  leaped  into  the  sea,  and 
swam  resolutely  away. 

Even  in  their  dire  extremity  the  sailors  could 
not  see  a  comrade  perish  with  indifference.  They 
jumped  up,  hastily  got  out  the  oars,  and  pulled  after 
hira,  but  their  arms  were  very  weak ;  before  they 


P 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


96 


f 


could  overtake  him  the  man  had  sunk  to  rise  no 
more. 

It  was  while  this  scene  was  being  enacted  that  the 
spirit  of  the  cabin-boy  passed  away.  On  ascertain- 
ing that  he  was  dead  Charlie  covered  him  with  a 
tarpaulin  where  he  lay,  but  no  word  was  uttered  by 
any  one,  and  the  mate,  with  revolver  still  in  hand, 
sat  there — grim  and  silent — holding  the  tiller  as 
if  steering,  and  gazing  sternly  on  the  horizon. 
Yet  it  was  not  difficult  to  divine  the  thoughts  of 
those  unhappy  and  sorely  tried  men.  Some  by 
their  savage  glare  at  the  cover  that  concealed  the 
dead  body  showed  plainly  their  dreadful  desires. 
Brooke,  Darvall,  and  the  mate  showed  as  clearly  by 
their  compressed  lips  and  stern  brows  that  they 
would  resist  any  attempt  to  gratify  these. 

Suddenly  the  mate's  brow  cleared,  and  his  eyes 
opened  wide  as  he  muttered,  under  his  breath,  "  A 
sail!" 

"A  sail !  a  sail !"  shrieked  the  man  in  the  bow  at 
the  same  moment,  as  he  leaped  up  and  tried  to 
cheer,  but  he  only  gasped  and  fell  back  in  a  swoon 
into  a  coTnrade's  arms. 

It  was  indeed  a  sail,  which  soon  grew  larger, 
and  ere  long  a  ship  was  descried  bearing  straight 
towards  them  before  a  very  light  breeze.  In  less 
than  an  hour  the  castaways  stood  upon  her  deck 
— saved. 


191 


m 


warn 


96 


CllAKLIK  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


CHAPTEK  VIII. 


INORATITUDK. 


f 
i 

i4. 


ii' 


li 


A  YEAR  or  more  passed  away,  and  then  there 
came  a  cablegram  from  New  York  to  Jacob 
Crossley,  Esquire,  from  Captain  Stride.  The  old 
gentleman  was  at  breakfast  when  he  received  it, 
and  his  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Bland,  was  in  the  act 
of  settinsj  before  him  a  dish  of  buttered  toast 
when  he  opened  the  envelope.  At  the  first  glance 
he  started  up,  overturned  his  cup  of  coffee,  with- 
out paying  the  least  attention  to  the  fact,  and 
exclaimed  with  emphasis — 

"  As  I  expected.     It  is  lost ! " 

"  'Ow  could  you  expect  it,  sir,  to  be  any  think  else, 
w'en  you've  sent  it  all  over  the  table-cloth  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Bland,  in  some  surprise. 

"  It  is  not  that,  Mrs.  Bland,"  said  Mr.  Crossley, 
in  a  hurried  manner ;  "  it  is  my  ship  the  Walrus. 
Of  course  I  knew  long  ago  that  it  must  have  been 
lost,"  continued  the  old  gentleman,  speaking  his 
thoughts  more  to  himself  than  to  the  housekeeper, 
wlio  was   carefully  spooning   up   the  s])ilt  coffee- 


III 


. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


S7 


I 


"  but  the  best  of  it  is  that  the  Captain  has 
escaped." 

"Well,  I'm  sure,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Bland,  conde- 
scending to  be  interested,  and  to  ignore,  if  not  to  for- 
get, the  coffee,  "  1  'm  very  glad  to  'ear  it,  sir,  for 
Captain  Stride  is  a  pleasant,  cheery  sort  of  man,  and 
would  be  agreeable  company  if  'e  didn't  use  so  much 
sea-languidge,  and  speak  so  nmch  of  'is  missis.  An' 
I  'm  glad  to  'ear  it  too,  sir,  on  account  o'  that  fine 
young  man  that  sailed  with  'im — Mr.  Book,  I  think, 
was "  ,    -. 

"  No,  Mrs.  Bland,  it  was  Brooke ;  but  that 's  the 
worst  of  the  business,"  said  the  old  gentleman ;  "  I  'm 
not  quite  sure  whether  young  Brooke  is  among  the 
saved.     Here  is  what  the  telegram  says : — 

"'From  Captain  Stride  to  Jacob  Crossley.  Just 
arrived'  (that's  in  New  York,  Mrs.  Bland); 
'  Walrus  lost.  All  hands  left  her  in  three  boats. 
Our  boat  made  uninhabited  island,  and  knocked  to 
j^/ieces.  Eight  months  on  the  island.  Eescued  by 
American  barque.  Fate  of  other  boats  unknown. 
Will  be  home  within  a  couple  of  weeks.' " 

"  Why,  it  sounds  like  Robinson  Crusoe,  sir,  don't  it? 
which  I  read  when  I  was  quite  a  gurl,  but  I  don't 
believe  it  myself,  though  they  do  say  it 's  all  true. 
Young  Mr.  Leather  will  be  glad  to  'ear  the  good 
noos  of  'is  friend " 

"But  this  is  not  good  news  of  his  friend;  it  is 
only  uncertain  news,"  interrupted  the  old  gentleman 

G 


i:A 


II 


m 


M  • 


I 


I! 


98 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


quickly.  "Now  I  think  of  it,  Mrs.  Bland,  Mr. 
Leather  is  to  call  here  by  appointment  this  very 
morning,  so  you  must  be  particularly  careful  not  to 
say  a  word  to  him  about  this  telegram,  or  Captain 
Stride,  or  anything  I  have  told  you  about  the  lost 
ship — you  understand,  Mrs.  Bland  ?" 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  the  housekeeper,  somewhat 
hurt  by  the  doubt  thus  implied  as  to  the  capacity 
of  her  understanding.  "Shall  I  bring  you  some 
more  toast,  sir  ? "  she  added,  with  the  virtuous  feeling 
that  by  this  question  she  was  returning  good  for  evil. 

"No,  thank  you.  Now,  Mrs.  Bland,  don't  forget. 
Not  a  word  about  this  to  any  one." 

"'Ooks  an'  red-'ot  pincers  wouldn't  draw  a  syl- 
lable out  of  7iie,  sir,"  returned  the  good  woman, 
departing  with  an  offended  air,  and  leaving  her 
master  to  understand  that,  in  her  opinion,  such 
instruments  might  have  a  very  different  effect  upon 
him. 

"Ass  that  I  was  to  speak  of  it  to  her  at  all," 
muttered  Mr.  Crossley,  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  with  spectacles  on  forehead,  and  with  both 
hands  in  his  trousers-pockets  creating  disturbance 
among  the  keys  and  coppers.  "  I  might  have  known 
that  she  could  not  hold  her  tongue.  It  would  never 
do  to  let  Mrs.  Brooke  remain  on  the  tenter-hooks 
till  Stride  comes  home  to  clear  t'  -^  matter  up.  Poor 
Mrs.  Brooke !  No  wonder  she  is  almost  broken  down. 
This  hoping  against  hope  is  so  wearing.    And  she 's 


I 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


99 


n  ' 


SO  lonely.  To  be  sure,  sweet  May  Leather  runs  out 
and  in  like  a  beam  of  sunshine ;  but  it  must  be  hard, 
very  hard,  to  lose  an  only  son  in  this  way.  It 
would  be  almost  better  to  know  that  he  was  dead. 
Il'm  !  and  there 's  that  good-for-nothing  Shank.  The 
rascal !  and  yet  he 's  not  absolutely  good  for  nothing 
— if  he  would  only  give  up  drink.  Well,  while 
there 's  life  tliere  's  hope,  thank  God !  I  '11  give  him 
another  trial." 

The  old  man's  brow  was  severely  wrinkled  while 
he  indulged  in  these  mutterings,  but  it  cleared,  and 
a  kindly  look  beamed  on  his  countenance  as  he  gave 
vent  to  the  last  expression. 

Just  then  the  door  bell  rang.  Mr.  Crossley  re- 
sumed the  grave  look  that  was  habitual  to  him,  and 
next  minute  Shank  Leather  was  ushered  into  the 
room. 

The  youth  was  considerably  changed  since  we 
last  met  him.  The  year  which  had  passed  had 
developed  him  into  a  man,  and  clothed  his  upper 
lip  with  something  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  It 
had  also  lengthened  his  limbs,  deepened  his  chest, 
and  broadened  his  shoulders.  But  here  the  change 
for  the  better  ended.  In  that  space  of  time  there 
had  come  over  him  a  decided  air  of  dissipation,  and 
the  freshness  suitable  to  youth  had  disappeared. 

With  a  look  that  was  somewhat  defiant  he  entered 
the  room  and  looked  boldly  at  his  employer. 

"  Be  seated,  Mr.  Leather,"  said  the  old  gentleman 


.( 


100 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  KESGUE :   A  TALE 


in  a  voice  so  soft  that  the  young  man  evidently  felt 
abashed,  but  he  as  evidently  steeled  himself  against 
better  feelings,  for  he  replied — 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Crossley,  I  'd  rather  stand." 

"As  you  please,"  returned  the  other,  restraining 
himself.  "  I  sent  for  you,  Mr.  Leather,  to  tell  you 
that  I  have  heard  with  sincere  regret  of  your  last 
outbreak,  and " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Shank,  rudely  interrupting,  "  and 
I  came  here  not  so  much  to  hear  what  you  have  to 
say  about  my  outbreak — as  you  are  pleased  to  style 
a  little  jollification — as  to  tell  you  that  you  had 
better  provide  yourself  with  another  clerk,  for  I 
don't  intend  to  return  to  your  office.  I've  got  a 
better  situation." 

"  Oh,  indeed !"  exclaimed  Crossley  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Shank  insolently. 

It  was  evident  that  the  youth  was,  even  at  that 
moment,  under  the  influence  of  his  great  enemy, 
else  his  better  feelings  would  have  prevented  him 
from  speaking  so  rudely  to  a  man  who  had  never 
shown  him  anything  but  kindness.  But  he  was 
nettled  by  some  of  his  bad  companions  having 
taunted  him  with  his  slavery  to  his  be-^etting  sin, 
and  had  responded  to  Mr.  Crossley's  summons  under 
the  impression  that  he  was  going  to  get  what  he 
styled  a  "  wigging."  He  was  therefore  taken  some- 
what aback  when  the  old  gentleman  replied  to  his 
last  remark  gently. 


\ 


I 

I 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


101 


\l 


"  I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Leather,  on  getting  a 
better  situation  (if  it  really  should  turn  out  to  be 
better),  and  I  sincerely  hope  it  may — for  your 
mother's  sake  as  well  as  your  own.  This  therefore 
disposes  of  part  of  my  object  in  asking  you  to  call — 
which  was  to  say  that  I  meant  to  pass  over  this 
offence  and  retain  you  in  my  employment.  But  it 
does  not  supersede  the  necessity  of  my  urging  you 
earnestly  to  give  up  drink,  not  so  much  on  the  ground 
that  it  will  surely  lead  you  to  destruction  as  on  the 
consideration  that  it  grieves  the  loving  Father  who 
has  bestowed  on  you  the  very  powers  of  enjoyment 
which  you  are  now  prostituting,  and  who  is  at  this 
moment  holding  out  His  hands  to  you  and  waiting 
to  be  gracious." 

The  old  man  stopped  abruptly,  and  Shank  stood 
with  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor  and  frowning  brow. 

"Have  you  anything  more  to  say  to  me ?"  asked 
Mr.  Crossley. 

"  Nothing." 

"  Then  good-morning.  As  I  can  do  nothing  else 
to  serve  you,  I  will  pray  for  you." 

Shank  found  himself  in  the  street  with  feelings  of 
surprise  strong  upon  him. 

"  Pray  for  me  ! "  he  muttered,  as  he  v/alked  slowly 
along.  "It  never  occurred  to  me  before  that  he 
prayed  at  all !  The  old  humbug  has  more  need  to 
pray  for  himself ! " 


102 


CIIAllLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


CHAPTER  IX. 


SHANK   REVKALS  SOMETHING   MORE   OK  HIS  CHARACTER. 


1  ; 


!•* 


Taking  his  way  to  the  railway  station  ShanK 
Leather  found  himself  ere  long  at  his  mother's  door. 

He  entered  without  knocking. 

"  Shank ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Leather  and  May  in 
tlie  same  breath. 

"  Ay,  mother,  it 's  me.  A  bad  shilling,  they  say, 
always  turns  up.  I  always  turn  up,  therefore  I  am 
a  bad  shilling !     Sound  logic  that,  eh,  May  ? " 

"  I  'm  glad  to  see  you,  dear  Shank,"  said  careworn 
Mrs.  Leather,  laying  her  knitting-needles  on  the 
table ;  "  you  knoio  I  'm  always  glad  to  see  you,  but 
I  'm  naturally  surprised,  for  this  visit  is  out  of  your 
regular  time." 

"  Has  anything  happened  ?  '  asked  May  anxiously. 
And  May  looked  very  sweet,  almost  pretty,  when 
she  was  anxious.  A  year  had  refined  her  features, 
developed  her  mind  and  body,  and  almost  converted 
her  into  a  little  woman.  Indeed,  mentally,  she  had 
become  more  of  a  woman  than  many  girls  in  her 
neighbourhood  who  were  much  older.     This  was  in 


\ 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  HOOKIES. 


103 


i 


il 


all  likelihood  one  of  the  good  consequences  of  ad- 
versity. 

"Ay,  May,  something  has  happened,"  answered 
the  youth,  Hinging  himself  gaily  into  an  arm-chair 
and  stretching  out  his  legs  towards  the  fire ;  "  I  have 
thrown   up   my    situation.     Struck   work.     That's 

all." 

"  Shank  ! " 

"  Just  so.  Don't  look  so  horritied,  mother;  you  've 
no  occasion  to,  for  I  have  the  offer  of  a  better  situa- 
tion. Besides— ha!  ha!  old  Crossley — closefisted, 
crabbed,  money-making,  skin-Hint  old  Crossley — is 
going  to  pray  for  me.  Think  o'  that,  mother — going 
to  pray  for  me  ! " 

"  Shank,  dear  boy,"  returned  his  mother,  "  don't 
jest  about  religious  things." 

"  You  don't  call  old  Crossley  a  religious  thing,  do 
you  ?  Why,  mother,  I  thought  you  had  more  re- 
spect for  him  than  that  comes  to;  you  ought  at 
least  to  consider  his  years ! " 

"Come,  Shank,"  returned  Mrs.  Leather,  with  a 
deprecating  smile,  "  be  a  good  boy  and  tell  me  what 
you  mean — and  about  this  new  situation." 

"I  just  mean  that  my  friend  and  chum  and  old 
schoolfellow  Kalpli  Hitson — jovial,  dashing,  musical, 
handsome  Ralph — you  remember  him — has  got  me  a 
situation  in  California." 

"  Ralph  Ritson  ? "  repeated  Mrs.  Leather,  with  a 
little  sigh  and  an  uneasy  glance  at  her  daughter, 


II 


itr 


llii 


104 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  HESCUE  :   A  TALE 


whose  face  had  flushed  at  the  mention  of  the  youth's 
name. 

*'  Yes,"  continued  Shank,  in  a  graver  tone,  for  he 
had  observed  the  flush  on  May's  face.  "Ralph's 
father,  who  is  manager  of  a  gold  mine  in  California, 
has  asked  his  son  to  go  out  and  assist  him  at  a  good 
salary,  and  to  take  a  clerk  out  witli  him — a  stout 
vigorous  fellow,  well  up  in  figures,  book-keeping, 
carpenting,  etc.,  and  ready  to  turn  his  hand  to  any- 
thing, and  Ralph  has  chosen  me !  What  d'ee  think 
o'that?" 

From  her  silence  and  expression  it  was  evident 
that  the  poor  lady's  thoughts  were  not  quite  what 
her  son  had  hoped. 

"Why  don't  you  congratulate  me,  mother?"  he 
asked,  somewhat  petulantly. 

"  Would  it  not  be  almost  premature,"  she  replied, 
with  a  forced  smile,  "  to  congratulate  you  before  I 
know  anything  about  the  salary  or  the  prospects 
held  out  to  you  ?  Besides,  I  cannot  feel  as  enthusi- 
astic about  your  friend  Ralph  as  you  do.  I  don't 
doubt  that  he  is  a  well-meaning  youth,  but  he  is 
reckless.  If  he  had  only  been  a  man  like  your 
former  friend,  poor  Charlie  Brooke,  it  would  have 
been  different,  but " 

"  Well,  mother,  it 's  of  no  use  wishing  somebody  to 
be  like  somebody  else.  We  must  just  take  folk  as  we 
find  them,  and  I  find  Ralph  Ritson  a  remarkably  fine, 
sensible  fellow,  who  has  a  proper  appreciation  of  his 


;  I 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


105 


a 


friends.  And  he's  not  a  bad  fellow.  He  and 
Charlie  Brooke  were  fond  of  each  other  when  we 
were  all  schoolboys  together — at  least  he  was  fond 
of  Charlie,  like  everybody  else.  But  whether  we 
like  him  or  not  does  not  matter  now,  for  the  thing 
is  fixed.  I  have  accepted  his  offer,  and  thrown  old 
Jacob  overboard." 

"Dear  Shank,  don't  be  angry  if  I  am  slow  to 
appreciate  this  offer,"  said  the  poor  lady,  laying 
aside  her  knitting  and  clasping  her  hands  before 
her  on  the  table,  as  she  looked  earnestly  into  her 
son's  face,  "  but  you  must  see  that  it  has  come  on 
rne  very  suddenly,  and  I'm  so  sorry  to  hear  that 
you  have  parted  with  good  old  Mr.  Crossley  in 


anger- 


"We  didn't  part  in  anger,"  interrupted  Shank. 
"We  were  only  a  little  less  sweet  on  each  other 
than  usual.  There  was  no  absolute  quarrel.  D'  you 
think  he  'd  have  promised  to  pray  for  me  if  there 
was?" 

"Have  you  spoken  yet  to  your  father?"  asked 
the  lady. 

"  How  could  I  ?  I  've  not  seen  him  since  the 
thing  was  settled.  Besides,  what's  the  use?  He 
can  do  nothing  for  me,  an'  don't  care  a  button  what 
I  do  or  where  I  go." 

"  You  are  wrong.  Shank,  in  thinking  so.  I  know 
that  he  cares  for  you  very  much  indeed.  If  he  can 
do  nothing  for  you  now,  he  has  at  least  given  you 


K 


lOG 


CHARLIE  TO  TllK  UESCUE :   A  TALE 


your  education,  without  wliich  you  could  not  do 
much  for  yourself." 

"  Well,  of  course  I  shall  tell  him  whenever  I  see 
him,"  returned  the  youth,  somewhat  softened ;  "  and 
I  'm  aware  he  has  a  sort  of  sneaking  fondness  for 
me ;  but  I  'm  not  going  to  ask  his  advice,  because 
he  knows  nothing  about  the  business.  Besides, 
mother,  I  am  old  enough  to  judge  for  myself,  and 
mean  to  take  the  advice  of  nobody." 

"You  are  indeed  old  enough  to  judge  for  yourself," 
said  Mrs.  Leather,  resuming  her  knitting,  "and  I 
don't  wish  to  turn  you  from  your  plans.  On  the 
contrary,  I  will  pray  that  God's  blessing  and  pro- 
tection may  accompany  you  wherever  you  go,  but 
you  should  not  expect  me  to  be  instantaneously 
jubilant  over  an  arrangement  which  will  take  you 
away  from  me  for  years  perhaps." 

This  last  consideration  seemed  to  have  some 
weight  with  the  selfish  youth. 

"  Well,  well,  mother,"  he  said,  rising,  "  don't  take 
on  about  that.  Travelling  is  not  like  what  it  used 
to  be.  A  trip  over  the  Atlantic  and  the  Eocky 
Mountains  is  nothing  to  speak  of  now — a  mere 
matter  of  a  few  weeks — so  that  a  fellow  can  take  a 
run  home  at  any  time  to  say  '  How  do '  to  his 
people.  I  'm  going  down  now  to  see  Smithers  and 
tell  him  the  news." 

"  Stay,  I  '11  go  with  you — a  bit  of  the  way,"  cried 
May,  jumping  up  and  shaking  back  the  curly  brown 


fl 


OF  TIIR  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


107 


ll 


hair  which  still  hung  in  natwe  freedom — and  girlish 
fashion — on  her  shoulders. 

May  had  a  charming  and  rare  capacity  for  getting 
ready  to  go  out  at  a  moment's  notice.  She  merely 
threv  on  a  coquettish  straw  hat,  which  had  a 
knack  of  being  always  at  hand,  and  which  clung 
to  her  pretty  head  with  a  tenacity  that  rendered 
strings  or  elastic  superfluous.  One  of  her  brother's 
companions — we  don't  know  which — was  once 
heard  to  say  with  fervour  that  no  hat  would  be 
worth  its  ribbons  that  didn't  cling  powerfully  to 
such  a  head  without  assistance!  A  shawl  too,  or 
cloak,  was  always  at  hand,  somehow,  and  had  this  not 
been  so  May  would  have  thrown  over  her  shoulders 
an  antimacassar  or  table-cloth  rather  than  cause 
delay, — at  least  we  think  so,  though  we  have  no 
absolute  authority  for  making  the  statement. 

"  Dear  Shank,"  she  said,  clasping  both  hands  over 
his  arm  as  they  walked  slowly  down  the  path  that 
led  to  the  shore,  "  is  it  really  all  true  that  you  have 
been  telling  us  ?  Have  you  fixed  to  go  off  with — 
with  Mr.  Eitson  to  California  ? " 

"  Quite  true ;  I  never  was  more  in  earnest  in  my 
life.  By  the  way,  sister  mine,  what  made  you 
colour  up  so  when  llalph's  name  was  mentioned  ? 
There,  you  're  flushing  again !  Are  you  in  love  with 
him?" 

"  No,  certainly  not,"  answered  the  girl,  with  an  air 
and  tone  of  decision  that  made  her  brother  laugh. 


108 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


"  Well,  you  needn't  flare  up  so  fiercely.  You 
might  be  in  love  with  a  worse  man.  But  why, 
then,  do  you  blush  ? " 

May  was  silent,  and  hung  down  her  head. 

"  Come,  May,  you  've  never  had  any  secrets  from 
me.  Surely  you're  not  going  to  begin  now — on 
the  eve  of  my  departure  to  a  foreign  land  ? " 

'  I  would  rather  not  talk  about  him  at  all,"  said 
the  girl,  looking  up  entreatingly. 

But  Shank  looked  down  upon  her  sternly.  He 
had  assumed  the  parental  rdle.  "May,  there  is 
something  in  this  that  you  ought  not  to  conceal. 
I  have  a  right  to  know  it,  as  your  brother — your 
protector." 

Innocent  though  May  was,  she  could  not  repress 
a  faint  smile  at  the  idea  of  a  protector  who  had 
been  little  else  than  a  cause  of  anxiety  in  the  past, 
and  was  now  about  to  leave  her  to  look  after  her- 
self, i^robably  for  years  to  come.  But  she  answered 
frankly,  while  another  and  a  deeper  blush  over- 
spread her  face — 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  speak  of  it.  Shank,  as  you 
knew  nothing,  and  I  had  hoped  would  never  know 
anything  about  it,  but  since  you  insist,  I  must  tell 
you  that — that  M^.  Eitson,  I'm  afraid,  loves  mc — 
at  least  he " 

"  Afraid !  loves  you !  How  do  you  know  ? "  in- 
terrupted Shank  quickly. 

"  Well,  he  said  so — the  last  time  we  met." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


109 


"The  rascal !  Had  he  the  audacity  to  ask  you  to 
marry  him  ? — liim — a  beggar,  without  a  sixpence 
except  what  his  father  gives  him  ? " 

"  No,  Shank,  I  would  not  let  him  get  the  length 
of  that.  I  told  him  I  was  too  young  to — to  think 
about  such  matters  at  all,  and  said  that  he  must  not 
speak  to  me  again  in  such  a  way.  But  I  was  so 
surprised,  flurried,  and  distressed,  that  I  don't  clearly 
remember  wliat  I  said." 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ? "  asked  Shank,  forgetting 
the  parental  role  for  a  moment,  and  looking  at  May 
with  a  humorous  smile. 

"  Indeed  I  can  hardly  tell.  He  made  a  great 
many  absurd  protestations,  begged  me  to  give  him 
no  decided  answer  just  then,  and  said  something 
about  letting  him  write  to  me,  but  all  I  am  quite 
sure  of  is  that  at  last  I  had  the  courage  to  utter  a 
very  decided  NO,  and  then  ran  away  and  left  him." 

"  That  was  too  sharp,  May.  Ealph  is  a  first-rate 
fellow,  with  capital  prospects.  His  father  is  rich 
and  can  give  him  a  good  start  in  life.  He  may 
come  back  in  a  few  years  with  a  fortune — not  a  bad 
kind  of  husband  for  a  penniless  lass." 

"  Shank !"  exclaimed  May,  letting  go  her  brother's 
arm  and  facing  him  with  flashing  eyes  and  height- 
ened colour,  "do  you  really  think  that  a  fortune 
would  make  me  marry  a  man  v/hom  I  did  not 
love  ? " 

"Certainly   not,  my  dear   sis,"  said   the   youth. 


n 
1  i 


I 


110 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


taking  May's  hand  and  drawing  it  again  through 
his  arm  with  an  approving  smile.  "  I  never  for  a 
moment  thought  you  capable  of  such  meanness,  but 
that  is  a  very  different  thing  from  slamming  the 
door  in  a  poor  fellow's  face.  You  're  not  in  love 
with  anybody  else.  Ealph  is  a  fine  handsome  young 
fellow.  You  might  grow  to  like  him  in  time — and 
if  you  did,  a  fortune,  of  course,  would  be  no  dis- 
advantage. Besides,  lie  is  to  be  my  travelling 
companion,  and  might  write  to  you  about  me  if  I 
were  ill,  or  chanced  to  meet  with  an  accident  and 
were  unable  to  write  myself — don't  you  know  ? " 

"He  could  in  that  case  write  to  mother,"  said 
May,  simply. 

"  So  he  could ! "  returned  Shank,  laughing.  "  I 
never  thought  o'  that,  my  sharp  sister." 

They  had  reached  the  shore  by  that  time.  The 
tide  was  out;  the  sea  was  calm  and  the  sun  glintei 
brightly  on  the  wavelets  that  sighed  rather  than 
broke  upon  the  sands. 

For  some  distance  they  sauntered  in  silence  by 
the  margin  of  the  sea.  The  mind  of  each  was  busy 
with  the  same  thought.  Each  was  aware  of  that, 
and  for  some  time  neither  seemed  able  to  break  the 
silence.  The  timid  girl  recovered  her  courage  before 
the  self-reliant  man ! 

"  Dear  Shank,"  she  said,  pressing  his  arm,  "  you 
'-/vill  probably  be  away  for  years." 

"  Yes,  May — at  least  for  a  good  long  time." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


HI 


"Oh  forgive  me,  brother,"  continued  the  girl, 
with  sudden  earnestness,  "but — but — you  know 
your — your  weakness " 

"  Ay,  May,  I  know  it.  Call  it  sin  if  you  will — 
and  my  knowledge  of  it  has  something  to  do  with 
my  present  determination,  for,  weak  though  I  am, 
and  bad  though  you  think  me " 

"  But  I  don't  think  you  had,  dear  Shank,"  cried 
May,  with  tearful  eyes ;  "  I  never  said  so,  and  never 
thought  so,  and " 

"  Come,  come.  May,"  interrupted  the  youth,  with 
something  of  banter  in  his  manner,  "you  don't 
think  me  good,  do  you  ? " 

"Well,  no — not  exactly,"  returned  May,  faintly 
smiling  through  her  tears. 

"  Well,  then,  if  1  'm  not  good  I  must  be  bad, 
you  know.  There 's  no  half-way  house  in  this 
matter." 

"  Is  there  not,  Shank  ?  Is  there  not  very  good 
and  mry  bad  ? " 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  come  to  that,  there's  pretty- 
good,  and  rather -bad,  and  a  host  of  other  houses 
between  these,  such  as  goodish  and  baddish,  but 
not  one  of  them  can  be  a  half-way  house." 

"  Oh  yes,  one  of  them  can — must  be." 

"  Which  one,  you  little  argumentative  creature  ? " 
asked  Shank. 

"  Why,  middling-good  of  course." 

"  Wrong  ! "  cried  her  brother,  "  doesn't  middling- 


PT 


112 


CIIAULIE  TO  THE  llESCUE  :   A  TALE 


I 

I 

r 

■ 

i 


Hi 


h  ■ 


it. 


bad  stand  beside  it,  with  quite  as  good  a  claim  to  be 
considered  half-way  ?  However,  I  won't  press  my 
victory  too  far.  For  the  sake  of  peace  we  will  agree 
that  these  are  semi-detached  houses  in  one  block — 
and  that  will  block  the  subject.  But,  to  be  serious 
again,"  he  added,  stopping  and  looking  earnestly 
into  his  sister's  face,  "I  wanted  to  speak  to  you 
on  this  weakness— this  sin — and  I  thank  you  for 
breaking  the  ice.  The  truth  is  that  I  have  felt 
for  a  good  while  past  that  convj^viality " 

"  Strong-drink,  brother,  call  it  by  its  right  name," 
said  May,  gently  pressing  the  arm  on  which  she 
leaned. 

"  Well — have  it  so.  Strong  drink  has  been  get- 
ting the  better  of  me — mind  I  don't  admit  it  has  got 
the  better  of  me  yet — only  is  getting — and  convivial 
comrades  have  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it.  Now, 
as  you  know,  I  'm  a  man  of  some  decision  of  char- 
acter, and  I  had  long  ago  made  up  my  mind  to  break 
with  my  companions.  Of  course  I  could  not  very 
well  do  this  while — while  I  was — well,  no  matter 
why,  but  this  offer  just  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  god- 
send, for  it  will  enable  me  to  cut  myself  free  at 
once,  and  the  sea  breezes  and  Eocky  Mountain  air 
and  gold- hunting  will,  I  expect,  take  away  the 
desire  for  strong  drink  altogether." 

"  I  hope  it  will — indeed  I  am  sure  it  will  if  it  is 
God's  way  of  leading  you,"  said  May,  with  an  air  of 
confidence.  *'" 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


113 


"Well,  I  don't  know  whether  it  is  God  who  is 
leading  me  or " 

"  Did  you  not  call  it  a  god-send  just  now  ? " 

"  Oh,  but  that's  a  mere  form  of  speech,  you  know. 
However,  I  do  know  that  it  was  on  this  very  beach 
where  we  now  stand  that  a  friend  led  roe  for  the 
first  time  to  think  seriously  of  this  matter — more 
than  a  year  ago." 

"  Indeed — who  was  it  ? "  asked  May  eagerly. 

"jMy  chum  and  old  school-fellow,  poor  Charlie 
Brooke,"  returned  Shank,  in  a  strangely  altered 
voice. 

Then  he  went  on  to  tell  of  the  conversation  he 
and  his  friend  had  had  on  that  beach,  and  it  was 
not  till  he  had  finished  that  he  became  aware  that 
his  sister  was  weeping, 

"  Why,  May,  you  're  crying.     What 's  the  matter  ? " 

"  God  bless  him  ! "  said  May  in  fervent  yet  tremu- 
lous tones  as  she  looked  up  in  her  brother's  face. 
"  Can  you  wonder  at  my  feeling  so  strongly  when 
you  remember  how  kind  Charlie  always  was  to  you 
— to  all  of  us  indeed — ever  since  he  was  a  little  boy 
at  school  with  you  ;  what  a  true-hearted  and  steady 
friend  he  has  always  been.  And  you  called  him 
poor  Charlie  just  now,  as  if  he  were  dead." 

"True  indeed,  it  is  very,  very  sad,  for  we  have 
great  reason  to  fear  the  worst,  and  I  have  strong 
doubt  that  I  shall  never  see  my  old  chum  again. 
But  I  won't  give  up  hope,  for  it  is  no  uncommon 

II 


lU 


CIIAULIK  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


11^! 


i.  i 


il  ■ 


thing  for  men  to  be  lost  at  sea,  for  years  even,  and 
to  turn  up  at  last,  having  been  cast  away  on  a  desert 
island,  like  Eobinson  Crusoe,  or  sometliing  of  that 
sort." 

The  thoughts  which  seemed  to  minister  c  )la- 
tion  to  Shank  Leather  did  not  appear  to  afford  much 
comfort  to  his  sister,  who  hung  her  head  and  made 
no  answer,  while  her  companion  went  on — 

"  Yes,  May,  and  poor  Charlie  was  the  first  to  make 
me  feel  as  if  I  were  a  little  selfish,  though  that,  as 
you  know,  is  not  one  of  my  conspicuous  failings ! 
His  straightforwardness  angered  me  a  little  at  first, 
but  his  kindness  made  me  think  much  of  what  he 
said,  and — well,  the  upshot  of  it  all  is  that  I  am 
going  to  California." 

"  I  am  glad — so  glad  and  thankful  he  has  had  so 
much  influence  over  you,  dear  Shank,  and  now,  don't 
you  think — that — that  if  Charlie  were  with  you  at 
this  moment  he  would  advise  you  not  to  go  to  Mr. 
Smithers  to  consult  about  your  plans  ? " 

For  a  few  moments  the  brother's  face  betrayed 
a  feeling  of  annoyance,  but  it  quickly  cleared 
away. 

"  You  are  right,  May.  Smithers  is  too  much  of 
a  convivial  harum-scarum  fellow  to  be  of  much  use 
in  the  way  of  giving  sound  advice.  I  *11  go  to  see 
Jamieson  instead.  You  can  have  no  objection  to 
him — surely.  He 's  a  quiet,  sober  sort  of  man,  and 
never  tries  to  tempt  people  or  lead  them  into  mis- 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


115 


chief — which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  the  other 
fellow. 

"  That  is  a  very  negative  sort  of  goodness," 
returned  May,  smiling.  "  However,  if  you  must  go 
to  see  some  one,  Jamieson  is  better  than  Smithers ; 
but  wliy  not  come  home  and  consult  with  mother 
and  me  ? " 

"  Pooh !  what  can  women  know  about  such  mat- 
ters ?  No,  no.  May,  when  a  fellow  has  to  go  into 
the  pros  and  cons  of  Californian  life  it  must  be  with 
men!' 

"  H'm !  the  men  you  associate  with,  having  been  at 
school  and  the  desk  all  tlieir  lives  up  till  now,  must 
be  eminently  fitted  to  advise  on  Californian  life! 
That  did  not  occur  to  me  at  the  first  blush!"  said 
May  demurely. 

"  Go  home,  you  cynical  baggage,  and  help  mother 
to  knit,"  retorted  Shank,  with  a  laugh.  "  I  intend 
to  go  and  see  Jamieson." 

And  he  went.  And  the  ne;^atively  good  Jamieson, 
who  never  led  people  into  temptation,  had  no  objec- 
tion to  be  led  into  that  region  himself,  so  they  went 
together  to  make  a  passing  call — a  mere  look  in — on 
Smithers,  who  easily  induced  them  to  remain.  The 
result  was  that  the  unselfish  man  with  decision  of 
character  returned  home  in  the  early  hours  of  morn- 
ing— "  screwed  ' ! 


116 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


14 


II   : 


; 

1    !: 

! 

i 
{ 
S 

■)» 

:!i 

CHAPTER  X. 

IIOMK-COMINO  AND  UNEXPECTKD  SURPRISES. 

Upwauds  of  another  year  passed  away,  and  at 
the  end  of  that  time  a  ship  might  have  been  seen 
approaching  one  of  the  harbours  on  the  eastern  sea- 
board of  America.  Her  sails  were  worn  and  patched. 
Her  spars  were  broken  and  spliced.  Her  rigging 
was  ragged  and  slack,  and  the  state  of  her  hull  can 
be  best  described  by  the  word  'battered.'  Everything 
in  and  about  her  bore  evidence  of  a  prolonged  and 
hard  struggle  with  the  elements,  and  though  she  had 
at  last  come  off  victorious,  her  dilapidated  appear- 
ance bore  strong  testimony  to  the  deadly  nature  of 
the  fight. 

Her  crew  presented  similar  evidence.  Not  only 
were  their  garments  ragged,  threadbare,  and  patched, 
but  the  very  persons  of  the  men  seemed  to  have 
been  riven  and  battered  by  the  tear  and  wear  of  the 
conflict.  And  no  wonder ;  for  the  vessel  was  a  South 
Sea  whaler,  returning  home  after  a  three  years' 
cruise. 

At  first  she  had  been  blown  far  out  of  her  course ; 


"^ 

•W 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


117 


then  she  was  very  successful  in  the  fishing,  and 
then  she  was  stranded  on  the  reef  of  a  coral  island 
in  such  a  position  that,  though  protected  from 
absolute  destruction  by  tlie  fury  of  the  waves,  she 
could  not  be  got  off  for  many  months.  At  last  the 
ingenuity  and  perseverance  of  one  of  her  crew  were 
rewarded  by  success.  She  was  hauled  once  more 
into  deep  water  and  finally  returned  home. 

The  man  who  had  been  thus  successful  in  saving 
the  ship,  and  probably  the  lives  of  his  mates — ^for  it 
was  a  desolate  isle,  far  out  of  the  tracks  of  commerce 
— was  standing  in  the  bow  of  the  vessel,  watching 
the  shore  with  his  companions  as  they  drew  near. 
He  was  a  splendid  specimen  of  manhood,  clad  in  a 
red  shirt  and  canvas  trousers,  while  a  wide-awake 
took  the  place  of  the  usual  seafaring  cap.  He  stood 
head  and  shoulders  above  his  fellows. 

Just  as  the  ship  rounded  the  end  of  the  pier, 
which  formed  one  side  of  the  harbour,  a  small  boat 
shot  out  from  it.  A  little  boy  sculled  the  boat,  and, 
apparently,  had  been  ignorant  of  the  ship's  approach, 
for  he  gave  a  shout  of  alarm  on  seeing  it  and  made 
frantic  efforts  to  get  out  of  its  way.  In  his  wild 
attempts  to  turn  the  boat  he  missed  a  stroke  and 
went  backwards  into  the  sea. 

At  the  same  moment  the  lookout  on  the  ship  gave 
the  order  to  put  the  helm  hard  a-starboard  in  a 
hurried  shout. 

Prompt  obedience  caused  the  ship  to  sheer  oli  a 


•5; 


H 


118 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


little,  and  her  side  just  grazed  the  boat.  All  hands 
on  the  forecastle  gazed  down  anxiously  for  tlie  boy's 
reappearance. 

Up  he  came  next  moment  with  a  bubbling  cry 
and  clutching  fingers. 

"  He  can't  swim  ! "  cried  one. 

"  Out  with  a  lifebelt ! "  shouted  another. 

Our  tall  seaman  bent  forward  as  they  spoke,  and, 
just  as  the  boy  sank  a  second  time,  he  shot  like  an 
arrow  into  the  water. 

"  He 's  all  safe  now,"  remarked  a  seaman  quietly, 
and  with  a  nod  of  satisfaction,  even  before  the 
rescuer  had  reappeared. 

And  he  was  right.  The  red-shirted  sailor  rose 
a  moment  later  with  the  boy  in  his  arms.  Chuck- 
ing the  urchin  into  the  boat  he  swam  to  the  pier- 
head with  the  smooth  facility  and  speed  of  an  otter 
climbed  the  wooden  piles  with  the  ease  of  an 
athlete ;  walked  rapidly  along  the  pier,  and  arrived 
at  the  head  of  the  harbour  almost  as  soon  as  his 
own  ship. 

"  That 's  the  tenth  life  he 's  saved  since  he  came 
aboard — to  say  nothin'  o'  savin'  the  ship  herself," 
remarked  the  Captain  to  an  inquirer,  after  the 
vessel  had  reached  her  moorings.  "  An'  none  o*  the 
lives  was  as  easy  to  manage  as  that  one.  Some  o* 
them  much  harder." 

We  will  follow  this  magniticent  seaman  for  a 
time,  good  reader. 


H 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


119 


cry 


Having  obtained  permission  to  quit  the  South 
Sea  whaler  he  walked  straight  to  the  office  of  a  steam 
shipping  company,  and  secured  a  fore-cabin  passage 
to  England.  He  went  on  board  dressed  as  he  had 
arrived,  in  tlie  red  shirt,  ducks,  and  wide-awake — 
minus  the  salt  water.  The  only  piece  of  costume 
which  he  had  added  to  his  wardrobe  was  a  huge 
double-breasted  pilot-cloth  coat,  with  buttons  the 
size  of  an  egg-cup.  He  was  so  unused,  however,  to 
such  heavy  clothing  that  he  flung  it  off  the  moment 
he  got  on  board  the  steamer,  and  went  about  there- 
after in  his  red  flannel  shirt  and  ducks.  Hence  he 
came  to  be  known  by  every  one  as  lied  Shirt. 

This  man,  with  his  dark-blue  eyes,  deeply  bronzed 
cheeks,  fair  hair,  moustache,  and  beard,  and  tall 
herculean  form,  was  nevertheless  so  soft  and  gentle 
in  his  manners,  so  ready  with  his  smile  and  help 
and  sympathy,  that  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in 
the  vessel  adored  him  before  the  third  day  was  over. 
Previous  to  that  day  many  of  the  passengers,  owing 
to  internal  derangements,  were  incapable  of  any 
affection,  except  self-love,  and  to  do  them  justice 
they  had  not  much  even  of  that ! 

Arrived  at  Liverpool,  Eed  Shirt,  after  seeing  a 
poor  invalid  passenger  safely  to  his  abode  in  that 
city,  and  assisting  one  or  two  families  with  young 
children  to  find  the  stations,  boats,  or  coaches  that 
were  more  or  less  connected  with  their  homes,  got 
into  a  third-class  carriage  for  London.     On  reach- 


>  iti 


II 


I 
I 


ll  '  : 


120 


CIIAItr.IK  TO  TlIK  RKSCUE  :   A  TALE 


iiig  the  metropolis  ho  at  once  took  a  ticket  for 
Sealford. 

Just  as  the  train  was  on  tlie  point  of  starting  two 
elderly  gentlemen  came  on  tlie  platfurn),  in  that 
eager  haste  and  confusion  of  mind  characteristic  of 
late  passengers. 

"  This  way,  Captain,"  cried  one,  hailing  the  other, 
and  pointing  energetically  with  his  brown  silk 
umbrella  to  the  Sealford  carriages. 

"No,  no.  It's  at  the  next  platform,"  returned 
the  Captain  frantically. 

"  I  say  it  is  herCy'  shouted  the  first  speaker  sternly. 
"  Come,  sir,  obey  orders !" 

They  both  made  for  an  open  carriage-door.  It 
chanced  to  be  a  third  class.  A  strong  hand  was 
held  out  to  assist  them  in. 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  eldest  elderly  gentleman — 
he  with  the  brown  silk  umbrella — turning  to  Red 
Shirt  as  he  sat  down  and  panted  slightly. 

"  I  feared  that  we  'd  be  late,  sir,"  remarked  the 
other  elderly  gentleman  on  recovering  breath. 

"We  are  not  late,  Captain,  but  we  should  have 
been  late  for  certain,  if  your  obstinacy  had  held 
another  half  minute." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Crossley,  I  admit  that  I  made  a  mis- 
take about  the  place,  but  you  must  allow  that  I 
made  no  mistake  about  the  hour.  I  was  sure  that 
my  chronometer  was  right.  If  there  's  one  thing  on 
earth  that  I  can  trust  to  as  reg'lar  as  the  sun,  it  is 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  UOCKIES. 


121 


tliis  clironoinetcr  (pulling  it  out  as  he  spoke),  and 
it  never  fails.  As  I  always  sai-^  to  my  missis, 
'  Maggie,'  I  used  to  say,*  when  you  find  this  chrono- 
meter fail '  '  Oh  !  bother  you  an'  your  chrono- 
meter,* she  would  reply,  takin'  the  wind  out  o'  my 
sails — for  my  missus  has  a  free-an'-easy  way  o'  doin' 
that " 

"You've  just  come  oft'  a  voyage,  young  sir,  if  I 
mistake  not,"  said  Crossley,  turning  to  lied  Shirt, 
for  he  had  quite  as  free-and-easy  a  way  of  taking 
the  wind  out  of  Captain  Stride's  sails  as  the 
"  missus." 

"Yes;  I  have  just  returned,"  answered  Ked  Shirt, 
in  a  low  soft  voice,  which  scarcely  seem'>'a  appro- 
priate to  his  colossal  frame.  His  red  gaii-.^nt,  by 
the  way,  was  at  the  time  all  concealed  by  the  pilot- 
coat,  excepting  the  collar. 

"  Going  home  for  a  spell,  I  suppose  ?"  said 
Crossley. 

"Yes." 

"May  I  ask  where  you  last  hailed  from?"  said 
Captain  Stride,  with  some  curiosity,  for  there  was 
something  in  the  appearance  of  this  nautical  stranger 
which  interested  him. 

"  From  the  southern  seas.  I  have  been  away  a 
long  while  in  a  South  Sea  whaler." 

"  Ah,  indeed  ? — a  rough  service  that." 

"  Eather  rough ;  but  I  didn't  enter  it  intentionally. 
I  was  picked  up  at  sea,  with  some  of  my  mates,  in 


ir  ; 


I!  ', 


Ji    - 


ii 


ii  f 


ill 


pi 


», 


122 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  llEbCUE  :   A  TALE 


an  0  pen  boat,  by  the  whaler.  She  was  on  the  out- 
ward voyage,  and  couldn't  land  us  anywhere,  so  we 
were  obliged  to  make  up  our  minds  to  join  as 
hands." 

"  Strange !"  murmured  Captain  Stride.  "  Then 
you  were  wrecked  somewhere — or  your  ship  foun- 
dered, mayhap — eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  we  were  wrecked — on  a  coral  reef." 

"  Well  now,  young  man,  that  is  a  strange  coin- 
cidence. I  was  wrecked  myself  on  a  coral  reef  in 
the  very  same  seas,  nigh  three  years  ago.  Isn't 
that  odd?" 

"  Dear  me,  this  is  very  interesting,"  put  in  Mr. 
Crossley ;  "  and,  as  Captain  Stride  says,  a  somewhat 
strange  coincidence." 

"Is  it  so  very  strange,  after  all,"  returned  Red 
Shirt,  "seeing  that  the  Pacific  is  full  of  sunken 
coral  reefs,  and  vessels  are  wrecked  there  more  or 
less  every  year  ?" 

"  Well,  there 's  some  truth  in  that,"  observed  the 
Captain.  "Did  you  say  it  was  a  sunk  reef  your 
ship  struck  on  ?" 

"Yes;  quite  sunk.  N-;  Dart  visible.  It  was 
calm  weather  at  the  time,  and  a  clear  night." 

"Another  coincidence!"  exclaimed  Stride, becom- 
ing still  more  interested.  "Calm  and  clear,  too, 
when  I  was  wrecked !" 

"Curious,"  remarked  Eed  Shirt  in  u  cool  indif- 
ferent tone,  that  began  to  exasperate  the  Captain. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


123 


"Yet,  after  all,  there  are  a  good  many  calm  and 
clear  nights  in  the  Pacific,  as  well  as  coral 
reefs." 

"  Why,  young  man,"  cried  Stride  in  a  tone  that 
made  old  Crossley  smile,  "you  seem  to  think 
nothing  at  all  of  coincidences.  It 's  very  seldom — 
almost  never — that  one  hears  of  so  many  coinci- 
dences happening  on  this  side  o'  the  line  all  at  once 
— don't  you  see  ?" 

"I  see,"  returned  Ked  Sliirt;  "and  the  same, 
exactly,  may  be  said  of  the  other  side  o'  the  line.  I 
very  seldom — almost  never — heard  of  so  many  out 
there ;  which  itself  may  be  called  a  coincidence,  d'ee 
see  ?  a  sort  of  negative  similarity." 

"  Young  man,  I  would  suspect  you  were  jesting 
with  me,"  returned  the  Captain,  "  but  for  the  fact 
that  you  told  me  of  your  experiences  first,  before 
you  could  know  that  mine  would  coincide  with  them 
so  exactly." 

"Your  conclusions  are  very  just,  sir,"  rejoined 
Eed  Shirt,  with  a  grave  and  respectful  air ;  "  but  of 
course  coincidences  never  go  on  in  an  unbroken 
chain.  They  must  cease  sooner  or  later.  We  left 
our  wreck  in  three  boats.     No  doubt  you " 

"There  again!"  cried  the  Captain  in  blazing 
astonishment,  as  he  removed  his  hat  and  wiped  his 
heated  brow,  while  Mr.  Crossley's  eyes  opened  to 
their  widest  extent.  "  IVe  left  our  wreck  in  three 
boats !    My  ship's  name  was " 


I 


III  I 


l|i 


I 


■i'll 


■''■■,1 


liUl 


124 


CHAllLIE  TO  THE  KESCUE  :   A  TALE 


"  The  Walrus,"  said  Eed  Shirt  quietly,  "  and  her 
Captain's  name  was  Stride!" 

Old  Crossley  had  reached  the  stage  that  is  known 
as  petrified  with  astonishment.  The  Captain  being 
unable  to  open  his  eyes  wider  dropped  his  lower 
jaw  instead. 

"  Surely,"  continued  Red  Shirt,  removing  his  wide- 
awake, and  looking  steadily  at  his  companions,  "  I 
must  have  changed  very  much  indeed  when  two  of 
my " 

"Brooke!"  exclaimed  Crossley,  grasping  one  of 
the  sailor's  hands. 

"  Charlie !"  gasped  the  Captain,  seizing  the  other 
hand. 

What  they  all  said  after  reaching  this  point  it  is 
neither  easy  nor  necessary  to  record.  Perhaps  it 
may  be  as  well  to  leave  it  to  the  reader's  vivid 
imagination.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  our  hero  irri- 
tated the  Captain  no  longer  by  his  callous  indif- 
ference to  coincidences.  In  the  midst  of  the 
confusion  of  hurried  question  and  short  reply,  iie 
pulled  them  up  with  the  sudden  query  anxiously 
put — 

"  But  now,  what  of  my  mother  ? " 

"  Well — excellently  well  in  health,  my  boy,"  said 
Crossley,  "but  wofully  low  in  spirits  about  your- 
self— Charlie.  Yet  nothing  will  induce  her  to 
entertain  the  idea  that  you  have  been  drowned. 
Of  course  we  have  been  rather  glad  of  this — though 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


125 


most  of  our  friends,  Charlie,  have  given  you  up  for 
lost  long  ago.  May  Leather,  too,  has  been  much 
the  same  way  of  thinking,  so  she  has  naturally  been 
a  great  comfort  to  your  mother." 

"God  bless  her  for  that.  She's  a  good  little 
girl,"  said  Charlie. 

"  Little  girl,"  repeated  both  elderly  gentlemen  in 
a  breath,  and  bursting  into  a  laugh.  "  You  forget, 
lad,"  said  the  Captain,  "  that  three  years  or  so  makes 
a  considerable  change  in  girls  of  her  age.  She's  a 
tall,  handsome  young  woman  now ;  ay,  and  a  good- 
looking  one  too.  Almost  as  good-lookin'  as  what 
my  missus  was  about  her  age — an'  not  unlike  my 
little  Mag  in  the  face — the  one  you  rescued,  you  re- 
member— who  is  also  a  strappin'  lass  now." 

"  I  'm  very  glad  to  hear  they  are  well.  Captain," 
said  Charlie ;  "  and.  Shank,  what  of " 

He  stopped,  for  the  grave  looks  of  his  friends  told 
him  that  something  was  wrong. 

"  Gone  to  the  dogs,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Nay,  not  quite  gone — but  going  fast." 

"  And  the  father  ? " 

"  Much  as  he  was,  Charlie,  only  somewhat  more 
deeply  sunk.  The  fact  is,"  continued  Crossley,  "  it 
is  this  very  matter  that  takes  us  down  to  Sealford 
to-day.  We  have  just  had  fresh  news  of  Shank — 
who  is  in  America — and  I  want  to  consult  with 
Mrs.  Leather  about  him.  You  see  I  have  agents 
out  there  who  may  be  able  to  help  us  to  save  him.' 


li  '  *     ■    . 


126 


CIlAliLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


I    , 


'11! 


"  From  drink,  I  suppose  ? "  interposed  our  hero. 

"  From  himself,  Charlie,  and  that  inchides  drink 
and  a  great  deal  more.  I  dare  say  you  are  aware — 
at  least  if  you  are  not  I  now  tell  you — that  I  have 
long  taken  great  interest  in  Mrs.  Leather  and  her 
family,  and  would  go  a  long  way,  and  give  a  great 
deal,  to  save  Shank.  You  know — no,  of  course  you 
don't,  I  forgot — that  he  threw  up  his  situation  in 
my  office — Withers  &  Co.  (ay,  you  may  smile,  my 
lad,  but  we  humbugged  you  and  got  the  better  of 
you  that  time.  Didn't  we,  Captain  ?)  Well,  Shank 
was  induced  by  that  fellow  Ealph  Ritson  to  go  away 
to  some  gold-mine  or  other  worked  by  his  father  in 
California,  but  when  they  reached  America  they 
got  news  of  the  failure  of  the  Company  and  the 
death  of  old  Eitson.  Of  course  the  poor  fellows 
were  at  once  thrown  on  their  own  resources,  but 
instead  of  facing  life  like  men  they  took  to  gam- 
bling. The  usual  results  followed.  They  lost  all 
they  had  and  went  off  to  Texas  or  some  such  wild 
place,  and  for  a  long  time  were  no  more  heard  of. 
At  last,  just  the  other  day,  a  letter  came  from 
Ritson  to  Mrs.  Leather,  telling  her  that  her  son  is 
very  ill — perhaps  dying — in  some  out  o'  the  way 
place.  Ritson  was  nursing  him,  but,  being  ill 
himself,  unable  to  work,  and  without  means,  it 
would  help  them  greatly  if  some  money  could  be 
sent — even  though  only  a  small  sum." 

Charlie   Brooke  listened  to  this   narrative  with 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


127 


compressed  brows,  and  remained  silent  a  few 
seconds.  "  My  poor  clium ! "  he  exclaimed  at 
length.  Then  a  flash  of  fire  seemed  to  gleam  in  his 
blue  eyes  as  he  added,  "  If  I  had  that  fellow  Ritson 
by  the " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  and  the  fire  in  the  eyes 
died  out,  for  it  was  no  part  of  our  hero's  charac- 
ter to  boast — much  less  to  speak  harshly  of  men 
behind  their  backs. 

"  Has  money  been  sent  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Not  yet.  It  is  about  that  business  that  I  'm 
going  to  call  on  poor  Mrs.  Leather  now.  We  must 
be  careful,  you  see.  I  have  no  reason,  it  is  true,  to 
believe  that  Eitson  is  deceiving  us,  but  when  a 
youth  of  no  principle  writes  to  make  a  sudden 
demand  for  money,  it  behoves  people  to  think 
twice  before  they  send  it." 

"  Ay,  to  think  three  times — perhaps  even  four  or 
five,"  broke  in  the  Captain,  with  stern  emphasis. 
"  I  know  Ralph  Ritson  well,  the  scoundrel,  an'  if  I 
had  aught  to  do  wi'  it  I  'd  not  send  him  a  penny. 
As  I  said  to  my " 

"Does  your  mother  know  of  your  arrival?"  asked 
Mr.  Crossley  abruptly. 

"  No  ;  I  meant  to  take  her  by  surprise." 

"  Humph !  Just  like  you  young  fellows.  In  some 
things  you  have  no  more  brains  than  geese.  Being 
made  of  cast-iron  and  shoe-leather  you  assume  that 
everybody  else  is,  or  ought  to  be,  made  of  the  same 


128 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


raw  material.  Don't  you  know  that  surprises  of 
this  sort  are  apt  to  kill  delicate  people  ?" 

Charlie  smiled  by  way  of  reply. 

"No,  sir,"  continued  the  old  gentleman  firmly, 
"I  won't  let  you  take  her  by  surprise.  While  1 
go  round  to  the  Leathers  my  good  friend  Captain 
Stride  will  go  in  advance  of  you  to  Mrs.  Brooke's 
and  break  the  news  to  her.  He  is  accustomed  to 
deal  with  ladies." 

"  Eight  you  are,  sir,"  said  the  gratified  Captain, 
removing  his  hat  and  wiping  his  brow.  "  As  I  said, 
no  later  than  yesterday  to " 

A  terrific  shriek  from  the  steam-whistle,  and  a 
plunge  into  the  darkness  of  a  tunnel  stopped — and 
thus  lost  to  the  world  for  ever — what  the  Captain 
said  upon  that  occasion. 


i 


OF  TIIF^  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


129 


CHAPTER   XI. 

TELLS  OF  HAPPY  MEETINGS  AND  SERIOUS  CONSULTxVTIONS. 

WiiETHEii  Captain  Stride  executed  his  commis- 
sion well  or  not  we  cannot  tell,  and  whether  the 
meeting  of  Mrs.  Brooke  with  her  long-lost  son  came 
to  near  killing  or  not  we  will  not  tell.  Enough  to 
know  that  they  met,  and  that  the  Captain — with 
that  delicacy  of  feeling  so  noticeable  in  seafaring 
men — went  outside  the  cottage  door  and  smoked 
his  pipe  while  the  meeting  was  in  progress.  After 
having  given  sufficient  time,  as  he  said,  "for  the 
first  o'  the  squall  to  blow  over,"  he  summarily 
snubbed  his  pipe,  put  it  into  his  vest  pocket,  and 
re-entered. 

"  Now,  missus,  you  '11  excuse  me,  ma'am,  for  cuttiii' 
in  atween  you,  but  this  business  o'  the  Leathers  is 
pressin',  an'  if  we  are  to  hold  a  confabulation  wi' 
the  family  about  it,  why " 

"Ah,  to  be  sure,  Captain  Stride  is  right,"  said 
Mrs.  Brooke,  turning  to  her  stalwart  son,  who 
was  seated  on  the  sofa  beside  her.  "This  is  a 
very,  very  sad   business   about  poor  Shank.    You 


•  If 


^ 


130 


CIIAKLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


1 

i 

I 

1 

( 

! 

had  better  go  to  them,  Charlie.  I  will  follow  you  in 
a  short  time. 

"  Mr.  Crossley  is  with  them  at  this  moment.  I 
forgot  to  say  so,  mother." 

"  Is  he  ?  I  'm  very  glad  of  that,"  returned  the 
widow.  "He  has  been  a  true  friend  to  us  all. 
Go,  Charlie.  But  stay.  I  see  May  coming.  The 
dear  child  always  comes  to  me  when  there  is  any- 
thing good  or  sorrowful  to  tell.  But  she  comes 
from  the  wrong  direction.  Perhaps  she  does  not 
yet  know  of  Mr.  Crossley's  arrival." 

"  May !  Can  it  be  ? "  exclaimed  Charlie  in  an 
undertone  of  surprise  as  he  observed,  through  the 
window,  the  girl  who  approached. 

And  well  might  he  be  surprised,  for  this,  al- 
though the  same  May,  was  very  different  from  the 
girl  he  left  behind  him.  The  angles  of  girlhood 
had  given  place  to  the  rounded  lines  of  young 
womanhood.  The  rich  curly  brown  hair,  which 
used  to  whirl  wildly/  in  the  sea-breezes,  was  gathered 
up  in  a  luxuriant  mass  behind  her  graceful  head, 
and  from  the  forehead  it  was  drawn  back  in  two 
wavy  bands,  in  defiance  of  fashion,  which  at  that 
time  was  beginning  to  introduce  the  detestable 
modern  fringe.  Perhaps  we  are  not  quite  un- 
biassed in  our  judgment  of  the  said  fringe,  for  it  is 
intimately  associated  in  our  mind  with  the  savages 
of  North  America,  whose  dirty  red  faces,  in  years 
past,  were  wont  to  glower  at  us  from  beneath  just 


i 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  UOCKIES. 


131 


such  a  fringe,  long  before  it  was  adopted  by  the  fair 
dames  of  England ! 

In  other  respects,  however,  May  was  little 
changed,  except  that  the  slightest  curl  of  sadness 
about  her  eyebrows  made  her  face  more  attractive 
than  ever,  as  she  nodded  pleasantly  to  the  Captain, 
who  had  hastened  to  the  door  to  meet  her. 

"So  glad  to  see  you,  Captain  Stride,"  she  said, 
shaking  hands  with  unfeminine  heartiness.  "  Have 
you  been  to  see  mother  ?  I  have  just  been  having 
a  walk  before " 

She  stopped  as  if  transfixed,  for  at  that  moment 
she  caught  sight  of  Charlie  and  his  mother  through 
the  open  door. 

Poor  May  Hushed  to  the  roots  of  her  hair ;  then 
she  turned  deadly  pale,  and  would  have  fallen  had 
not  the  gallant  Captain  caught  her  in  his  arms. 
But  by  a  powerful  effort  of  will  slie  recovered  her- 
self in  time  to  avoid  a  scene. 

"The  sight  of  you  reminded  me  so  strongly  of 
our  dear  Shank ! "  she  stammered,  when  Charlie, 
hastening  forward,  grasped  both  her  hands  and 
shook  them  warmly.  "  Besides — some  of  us  thought 
you  were  dead." 

"No  wonder  you  thought  of  Shank,"  returned 
Charlie,  "  for  he  and  I  used  to  be  so  constantly  to- 
gether. But  don't  be  cast  down,  IMay.  We  '11  get 
Shank  out  of  his  troubles  yet." 

"Yes,  and  you  know  he  has  Ealph  Eitson  with 


|i 


t 


132 


CIIARLIF.  TO  THE  15ESCUE :   A  TALE 


him,"  said  Mrs.  Brooke ;  "  and  he,  although  not 
quite  as  steady  as  we  could  wish,  will  be  sure  to 
care  for  such  an  old  friend  in  his  sickness.  But 
you'd  better  go,  Charlie,  and  see  Mrs.  Leather. 
They  will  be  sure  to  want  you  and  Captain  Stride. 
May  will  remain  here  witli  me.  Sit  down  beside 
me,  dear,  I  want  to  have  a  chat  with  you." 

"  Perhaps,  ma'am,  if  I  make  so  bold,"  interposed 
the  Captain,  "  Mr.  Crossley  may  want  to  have  Miss 
May  also  at  the  council  of  war." 

"  Mr.  Crossley !  is  lie  with  my  mother  ? "  asked 
the  girl  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  Miss  May,  he  is." 

"  Then  I  must  be  there.  Excuse  me,  dear  Mrs. 
Brooke." 

And  without  more  ado  May  ran  out  of  the  house. 
She  was  followed  soon  after  by  Charlie  and  the 
Captain,  and  Mrs,  Brooke  was  left  alone,  expressing 
her  thankfulness  and  joy  of  heart  in  a  few  silent 
tears  over  her  knitting. 

There  was  a  wonderful  similarity  in  many  respects 
between  Mrs.  Brooke  and  her  friend  Mrs.  Leather. 
They  both  knitted — continuously  and  persistently. 
This  was  a  convenient  if  not  a  powerful  bond,  for  it 
enabled  them  to  sit  for  hours  together — busy,  yet 
free  to  talk.  They  were  both  invalids — a  sympa- 
thetic bond  of  considerable  strength.  They  held 
the  same  religious  views — an  indispensable  bond 
where  two  people  have  to  be  much  together,  and 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


133 


are  in  earnest.  They  were  both  poor — a  natural 
bond  which  draws  people  of  a  certain  kind  very 
close  together,  physically  as  well  as  spiritually — and 
both,  up  to  this  time  at  least,  had  long-absent  and 
semi-lost  sons.  Even  in  the  matter  of  daughters 
they  might  be  said,  in  a  sense,  to  be  almost  equal, 
for  May,  loving  each,  was  a  daughter  to  both 
Lastly,  in  this  matter  of  similarity,  the  two  ladies 
were  good — good  as  gold,  according  to  Captain 
Stride,  and  he  ought  to  have  been  an  authority,  for 
he  frequently  visited  them  and  knew  all  their 
affairs.  Fortunately  for  both  ladies,  Mrs.  Brooke 
was  by  far  the  stronger-minded — hence  they  never 
quarrelled ! 

In  Mrs.  Leather's  parlour  a  solemn  conclave  was 
seated  round  the  parlour  table.  They  were  very 
earnest,  for  the  case  under  consideration  was  urgent, 
as  well  as  very  pitiful.  Poor  Mrs.  Leather's  face 
was  wet  with  tears,  and  the  pretty  brown  eyes  of 
May  were  not  dry.  They  had  had  a  long  talk 
over  the  letter  from  Eitson,  which  was  brief  and 
to  the  point,  but  meagre  as  to  details. 

"  I  rather  like  the  letter,  considering  who  wrote 
it,"  observed  Mr.  Crossley,  laying  it  down  after  a 
fourth  perusal.  "  You  see  he  makes  no  whining  or 
discontented  reference  to  the  hardness  of  their 
luck,  which  young  scapegraces  are  so  fond  of  doing . 
nor  does  he  make  effusive  professions  of  regret  or 
repentance,  which  hypocrites  are  so  prone  to  do.     I 


Ill 


134 


CIIAliLIE  TO  TIIK  llESCUE  :   A  TALE 


Hi: 


think  it  bears  the  stamp  of  being  geninne  on  the 
face  of  it.  At  least  it  appears  to  be  straightfor- 
ward." 

"  I  'm  so  glad  you  think  so,  Mr.  Crossley,"  said 
Mrs.  Leather ;  "  for  Mr.  Eitson  is  such  a  pleasant 
young  man — and  '       >od-looking,  too !" 

The  old  gentleL  a  and  the  Captain  both  burst 
into  a  laugh  at  this. 

"  I  'm  afraid,"  said  the  former,  "  that  good  looks 
are  no  guarantee  for  good  behaviour.  However,  I 
have  made  up  my  mind  to  send  him  a  small  sum 
of  money — not  to  Shank,  Mrs.  Leather,  so  you  need 
not  begin  to  thank  me.     I  shall  send  it  to  Eitson." 

"  Well,  thank  you  all  the  same,"  interposed  the 
lady,  taking  up  her  knitting  and  resuming  opera- 
tions below  the  to^  gazing  placidly  all  the  while 
at  her  friends  lik  le  consummate  conjuror,  "for 
Ealph  will  be  sure  to  look  after  Shank." 

"  The  only  thing  that  puzzles  me  is,  how  are  we 
to  get  it  sent  to  such  an  out-o'-the-way  place — 
Traitor's  Trap !  It 's  a  bad  name,  and  the  stupid 
fellow  makes  no  mention  of  any  known  town  near 
to  it,  though  he  gives  the  post-office.  If  I  only 
knew  its  exact  whereabouts  I  might  get  some  one 
to  take  the  money  to  him,  for  I  have  agents  in  many 
parts  of  America." 

After  prolonged  discussion  of  the  subject,  Mr. 
Crossley  returned  to  town  to  make  inquiries,  and 
the  Captain  went  to  take  his  favourite  walk  by  the 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  IIOCKIES. 


135 


sea-shore,  where  he  was  wont,  when  paying  a  visit 
to  Sealford,  to  drive  the  Leathers'  little  dog  half- 
mad  with  delight  by  throwing  stones  into  the  sea 
for  Scraggy  to  go  in  for — which  he  always  did, 
though  he  never  fetched  them  out. 

In  the  course  of  that  day  Charlie  Brooke  left  his 
mother  to  take  a  stroll,  and  naturally  turned  in  the 
direction  of  the  sea.  "When  half-way  through  the 
lane  with  the  high  banks  on  either  side  he  encoun- 
tered May. 

"  What  a  pleasant  pretty  girl  she  has  become ! " 
was  his  thought  as  she  drew  near, 

"  Nobler  and  handsomer  than  ever !"  was  hers  as 
he  approached. 

The  thoughts  of  both  sent  a  fiush  to  the  face  of 
each,  but  the  colour  scarcely  showed  through  the 
bronzed  skin  of  the  man. 

"Why,  what  a  woman  you  have  grown,  May!" 
said  Charlie,  grasping  her  hand,  and  attempting  to 
resume  the  old  familiar  terms — with,  however, 
imperfect  success. 

"  Isn't  that  natural  ?"  asked  May,  with  a  glance 
and  a  little  laugh. 

That  glance  and  that  little  laugh,  insignificant  in 
themselves,  tore  a  veil  from  the  eyes  of  Charlie 
Brooke.  He  had  always  been  fond  of  May  Leather, 
after  a  fashion.  Now  it  suddenly  rushed  upon  him 
that  he  was  fond  of  her  after  another  fashion !  He 
was  a  quick  thinker  and  just  reasoner.      A   poor 


p 


136 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


It:  • 


I'  '- 


man  without  a  profession  and  no  prospects  has  no 
right  to  try  to  gain  the  affections  of  a  girl.  He 
became  grave  instantly. 

"  May,"  he  said,  "  will  you  turn  back  to  the  shore 
with  me  for  a  little  ?  I  want  to  have  a  talk  about 
Shark.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  you  know  about 
him.  Don't  conceal  anything.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  a 
right  to  claim  your  confidence,  for,  as  you  know 
well,  he  and  I  have  been  like  brothers  since  we 
were  little  boys." 

May  had  turned  at  once,  and  the  tears  filled  her 
eyes  as  she  told  the  sad  story.  It  was  long,  and 
the  poor  girl  was  graphic  in  detail.  We  can  give 
but  the  outline  here. 

Shank  had  gone  off  with  Eitson  not  long  after 
the  sailing  of  the  Walrus.  On  reaching  America, 
and  hearing  of  the  failure  of  the  company  that 
worked  the  gold  mine,  and  of  old  Eitson 's  death, 
they  knew  not  which  way  to  turn.  It  was  a  tre- 
mendous blow,  and  seemed  to  have  rendered  them 
reckless,  for  they  soon  took  to  gambling,  i^t  first 
they  remained  in  New  York,  and  letters  came  home 
pretty  regularly,  in  which  Shank  always  expressed 
hopes  of  getting  more  respectable  work.  He  did 
not  conceal  their  mode  of  gaining  a  livelihood,  but 
defended  it  on  the  ground  that  "  a  man  must  live !" 

Tor  a  time  the  letters  were  cheerful.  The  young 
men  were  "lucky."  Then  came  a  change  of  luck, 
and  a  consequent  change  in  the  letters,  which  came 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  TlIU  ROCKIES. 


1?7 


less  frequently.  At  last  there  arrived  one  from 
Shank,  both  the  style  and  penmanship  of  which  told 
that  he  had  not  forsaken  the  great  curse  of  his  life 
— strong  drink.  It  told  of  disaster,  and  of  going  off 
to  the  "Eockies"  with  a  party  of  "discoverers," 
though  what  they  were  to  discover  was  not  men- 
tioned. 

"  From  that  date  till  now,"  said  May  in  conclu- 
sion, "  we  have  heard  nothing  about  them  till  this 
letter  came  from  Mr.  Eitson,  telling  of  dear  Shank 
being  so  ill,  and  asking  for  money." 

"  I  wish  any  one  were  with  Shank  rather  than 
that  man,"  said  Charlie  sternly;  "I  have  no  con- 
fidence in  him  whatever,  and  I  knew  him  well  as  a 
boy." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  think  we  may  trust  him.  Indeed 
I  feel  sure  he  won't  desert  his  wounded  comrade," 
returned  May,  with  a  blush. 

The  youth  did  not  observe  the  blush.  His 
thoughts  were  otherwise  engaged,  and  his  eyes  were 
at  the  moment  fixed  on  a  far-off  part  of  the  shore, 
where  Captain  Stride  could  be  seen  urging  on  the 
joyful  Scraggy  to  his  fruitless  labours. 

"  I  wish  I  could  feel  as  confident  of  him  as  you 
do,  May.  However,  misfortune  as  well  as  experience 
may  have  made  him  a  wiser,  perhaps  a  better,  man. 
But  what  troubles  me  most  is  the  uncertainty  of 
the  money  that  Mr.  Crossley  is  going  to  send  ever 
reaching  its  destination." 


138 


CIIAIILIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


"  Oh !  if  we  only  knew  some  one  in  New  York 
who  would  take  it  to  them,"  said  May,  looking  pite- 
ously  at  the  horizon,  as  if  she  were  apostrophising 
some  one  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

"Why,  you  talk  as  if  New  York  and  Traitor's 
Trap  were  within  a  few  miles  of  each  other,"  said 
Charlie,  smiling  gently.  "They  are  hundreds  of 
miles  apart." 

"Well,  I  suppose  they  are.  But  I  feel  so 
anxious  about  Shank  when  I  think  of  the  dear  boy 
lying  ill,  perhaps  dying,  in  a  lonely  place  far  far 
away  from  us  all,  and  no  one  but  Mr.  Eitson  to  care 
for  him  !  If  I  were  only  a  man  I  would  go  to  him 
myself." 

She  broke  down  at  this  point,  and  put  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  face. 

"  Don't  cry.  May,"  began  the  youth  in  sore  per- 
plexity, for  he  knew  not  how  to  comfort  the  poor 
girl  in  the  circumstances,  but  fortunately  Captain 
Stride  caught  sight  of  them  at  the  moment,  and 
gave  them  a  stentorian  hail. 

"  Hi !  halloo !  back  your  to-o-o-ps'ls.  I  '11  overhaul 
ye  in  a  jiffy." 

How  long  a  nautical  jiffy  may  be  we  know  not, 
but,  in  a  remarkably  brief  space  of  time,  considering 
the  shortness  and  thickness  of  his  sea-legs,  the  Cap- 
tain was  alongside,  blowing,  as  he  said,  "  like  a 
grampus." 

That  night  Charlie  Brooke  sat  witli  his  mother  in 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


139 


her  parlour.  They  were  alone — their  friends  hav- 
ing considerately  left  them  to  themselves  on  this 
their  first  night. 

They  had  been  talking  earnestly  about  past  and 
present,  for  the  son  had  much  to  learn  about  old 
friends  and  comrades,  and  the  mother  had  much  to 
tell. 

•'  And  now,  mother,"  said  Charlie,  at  the  end  of 
a  brief  pause,  "  what  about  the  future  ?" 

"  Surely,  my  boy,  it  is  time  enough  to  talk  about 
that  to-morrow,  or  next  day.  You  are  not  obliged 
to  think  of  the  future  before  you  have  spent  even 
one  night  in  your  old  room." 

"Not  absolutely  obliged,  mother.  Nevertheless, 
I  should  like  to  speak  about  it.  Poor  Shank  is 
heavy  on  my  mind,  and  when  I  heard  all  about 

him  to-day  from  May,  I She's  wonderfully 

improved  that  girl,  mother.     Grown  quite  pretty  ? " 

"Indeed  she  is — and  as  good  as  she's  pretty," 
returned  Mrs.  Brooke,  with  a  furtive  glance  at  her 
son. 

"She  broke  down  when  talking  about  Shank 
to-day,  and  I  declare  she  looked  quite  beautiful! 
Evidently  Shank's  condition  weighs  heavily  on 
her  mind." 

"  Can  you  wonder,  Charlie  ? " 

"  Of  course  not.  It 's  natural,  and  I  quite  sym- 
pathised with  her  when  she  exclaimed, '  If  I  were 
only  a  man  I  would  go  to  him  myself.' " 


if! 


il 


ill 


HO 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :  A  TALE 


"  That 's  natural  too,  my  son.  I  have  no  doubt 
she  would,  poor  dear  girl,  if  she  were  only  a  man." 

"  Do  you  know,  mother,  I  *ve  not  been  able  to  get 
that  speech  out  of  my  head  all  this  afternoon.  *  If 
I  were  a  man — if  I  were  a  man/  keeps  ringing 
in  my  ears  like  the  chorus  of  an  old  song,  and 
then " 

"  Well,  Charlie,  what  then  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Brooke, 
with  a  puzzled  glance. 

"Why,  then,  somehow  the  chorus  has  changed 
in  my  brain  and  it  runs — '  I  ain  p  man !  I  am  a 
man ! ' " 

"  Well  ? "  asked  the  mother,  "./ith  an  anxious 
look. 

"  Well — that  being  so,  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
that  /  will  go  out  to  Traitor's  Trap  and  carry  the 
money  to  Shank,  and  look  after  him  myself.  That 
is,  if  you  will  let  me." 

"  O  Charlie !  how  can  you  talk  of  it  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Brooke,  with  a  distressed  look.  "I  have  scarcely 
had  time  to  realise  the  fact  that  you  have  come 
home,  and  to  thank  God  for  it,  when  you  begin  to 
talk  of  leaving  me  again — perhaps  for  years,  as 
before." 

"Nay,  mother  mine,  you  jump  to  conclusions  too 
hastily.  What  I  propose  is  not  to  go  off  again  on 
a  long  voyage,  but  to  take  a  run  of  a  few  days  in  a 
first-class  steamer  across  what  the  Americans  call 
the  big  fish-pond ;  then  go  across  country  comfort- 


y. 


mBh 


l;.rm 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


Ul 


» 


ably  by  rail;  after  that  hire  a  horse  and  have  a 
gallop  somewhere  or  other;  find  out  Shank  and 
bring  him  home.  The  whole  thing  might  be  done 
in  a  few  weeks,  and  no  chance,  almost,  of  being 
wrecked." 

"  I  don't  know,  Charlie,"  returned  Mrs.  Brooke, 
in  a  sad  tone,  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  her  son's 
arm  and  stroked  it.  "As  you  put  it,  the  thing 
sounds  all  very  easy,  and  no  doubt  it  would  be  a 
grand,  a  noble  thing  to  rescue  Shank — but — but, 
why  talk  of  it  to-night,  my  dear  boy  ?  It  is  late. 
Go  to  bed,  Charlie,  and  we  will  talk  it  over  in  the 


mornin[;'. 


"How  pleasantly  familiar  that  'Go  to  bed,  Charlie,' 
sounds,"  said  the  son,  laughing,  as  he  rose  up. 

"  You  did  not  always  think  it  pleasant,"  returned 
the  good  lady,  with  a  sad  smile. 

"  That 's  true,  but  I  think  it  uncommonly  pleasant 
now.    Good-night,  mother." 

"  Goo^l-night,  my  son,  and  God  bless  you." 


i!il 


142 


CITARLTE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


CHAPTER   XIL 


CHANGK9  THE  SCENE  CONSIDKRABLY  ! 


1 


■■I; 


We  must  transport  our  reader  now  to  a  locality 
somewhere  in  the  region  lying  between  New 
Mexico  and  Colorado.  Here,  in  a  mean-looking 
out-of-the-way  tavern,  a  number  of  rough-looki'ig 
men  were  congregated,  drinking,  gambling,  and 
spinning  yarns.  Some  of  them  belonged  to  the 
class  known  as  cow-boys — men  of  rugged  exterior, 
iron  constitutions,  powerful  frames,  and  apparently 
reckless  dispositions,  though  underneath  the  surface 
there  was  considerable  variety  of  character  to  be 
found. 

The  landlord  of  the  inn — if  we  may  so  call  it,  for 
it  was  little  better  than  a  big  shanty — was  known 
by  the  name  of  David.  He  was  a  man  of  cool 
courage.  His  customers  knew  this  latter  fact  well, 
and  were  also  aware  that,  although  he  carried  no 
weapon  on  his  person,  he  had  several  revolvers  in 
handy  places  under  his  counter,  with  the  use  of 
which  he  was  extremely  familiar  and  expert. 

In  the  midst  of  a  group  of  rather  noisy  characters 


Il'l  r.^m: 


OF  THE  SEA.  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


143 


who  smoked  and  drank  in  one  corner  of  this  inn  or 
shanty,  there  wa3  seated  on  the  end  of  a  packing- 
case,  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life,  who,  even  in  such 
rough  company,  was  conspicuously  rugged.  His 
leathern  costume  betokened  him  a  hunter,  or 
trapper,  and  the  sheepskin  leggings,  with  the  wool 
outside,  showed  that  he  was  at  least  at  that  time  a 
horseman.  Unlike  most  of  his  comrades,  he  wore 
Indian  moccasins,  with  spurs  strapped  to  them. 
Also  a  cap  of  the  broad-brimmed  order.  The  point 
about  him  that  was  most  striking  at  first  sight  was 
his  immense  breadth  of  shoulder  and  depth  of  chest, 
though  in  height  he  did  not  equal  many  of  the  men 
around  him.  As  OlIQ  became  acquainted  with  the 
man,  however,  hiot  massive  proportions  had  not  so 
powerful  an  effec;:i  on  the  mind  of  an  observer  as  the 
quiet  simplicity  of  his  expression  and  manner. 
Good-nature  seemed  to  lurk  in  the  lines  about  his 
eyes  and  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  which  latter  had 
the  peculiarity  oi:  turning  down  instead  of  up  when 
he  smiled ;  yet  withal  there  was  a  stern  gravity 
aboi.t  him  that  forbade  familiarity. 

The  name  of  the  man  was  Hunky  Ben,  and  the 
strangest  thing  about  him — that  which  puzzled 
these  wild  men  most — was  that  he  neither  drank 
nor  smoked  nor  gambled  !  He  made  no  pretence  of 
abstaining  on  principle.  One  of  the  younger  men, 
who  was  blowing  a  stiff  cloud,  ventured  to  ask  him 
whether  he  really  thought  these  things  wrong. 


144 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


"  Well,  now,"  he  replied  quietly,  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye,  "  I  'm  no  parson,  boys,  that  I  should  set  up 
to  diskiver  what 's  right  an'  what 's  wrong.  I  've 
got  my  own  notions  on  them  points,  you  bet,  but 
I'm  not  goin'  to  preach  'em.  As  to  smokin',  I 
won't  make  a  smoked  herrin'  o'  my  tongue  to  please 
anybody.  Besides,  I  don't  want  to  smoke,  an'  why 
should  I  do  a  thing  I  don't  want  to  just  because 
other  people  does  it  ?  Why  should  I  make  a  new 
want  when  I  've  got  no  end  o'  wants  a'ready  that 's 
hard  enough  to  purvide  for?  Drinkin's  all  very 
well  if  a  man  wants  Dutch  courage,  but  I  don't 
want  it — no,  nor  French  courage,  nor  German,  nor 
Chinee,  havin'  got  enough  o'  the  article  liome- 
growed  to  sarve  my  purpus.  When  that 's  used  up 
I  may  take  to  drinkin' — who  knows?  Same  wi' 
gamblin'.  I  've  no  desire  to  bust  up  any  man,  an' 
I  don't  want  to  be  busted  up  myself,  you  bet.  No 
doubt  drinkin',  smokin',  an'  gamblin'  makes  men 
jolly  — them  at  least  that 's  tough  an'  that  wins ! — 
but  I  'm  jolly  without  'em,  boys, — ^jolly  as  a  cotton- 
tail rabbit  just  come  of  age." 

"  An'  ye  look  it,  old  man,"  returned  the  young 
fellow,  puffing  cloudlets  with  the  utmost  vigour; 
"  but  come,  Ben,  won't  ye  spin  us  a  yarn  about  your 
frontier  life  ? " 

"  Yes,  do,  Hunky,"  cried  another  in  an  entreating 
voice,  for  it  was  well  known  all  over  that  region  that 
the  bold  hunter  was  a  good  story-teller,  and  as  he 


^ 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


145 


had  served  a  good  deal  on  tlie  frontier  as  guide  to 
the  United  States  troops,  it  was  understood  that  he 
had  much  to  tell  of  a  thrilling  and  adventurous 
kind ;  but  although  the  men  about  him  ceased  to 
talk  and  looked  at  him  with  expectancy,  he  shook 
his  liead,  and  would  not  consent  to  be  drawn  out. 

"No,  boys,  it  can't  be  done  to-day,"  he  said; 
"  I  've  no  time,  for  I  'm  bound  for  Quester  Creek  in 
hot  haste,  an'  am  only  waitin'  here  for  my  pony  to 
freshen  up  a  bit.  The  Redskins  are  goin*  to  give 
us  trouble  there  by  all  accounts." 

"  The  red  devils ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the  men, 
with  a  savage  oath ;  "  they  're  always  givin'  us 
trouble." 

"  That,"  returned  Hunky  Ben,  in  a  soft  voice,  as 
he  glanced  mildly  at  the  speaker, — "  that  is  a  senti- 
ment I  heer'd  expressed  almost  exactly  in  the  same 
words,  though  in  Capatchee  lingo,  some  time  ago  by 
a  Redskin  chief — only  he  said  it  was  pale-faced 
devils  who  troubled  liim.  I  wonder  which  is  worst. 
The}''  can't  both  be  worst,  you  know ! " 

This  remark  was  greeted  with  a  laugh,  and  a 
noisy  discussion  thereupon  began  as  to  the  com- 
parative demerits  of  the  two  races,  which  was  ere 
long  checked  by  tlie  sound  of  a  galloping  horse 
outside.  Next  moment  the  door  opened,  and 
a  very  tall  man  of  commanding  presence  and 
bearing  entered  the  room,  took  off  his  hat,  and 
looked  round  with  a  slight  bow  to  the  company 

E 


I 


\i'h 


MG 


CIIAllLIE  TO  TllK  UKSCUK  :    A  TALE 


There  was  nothing  commanding,  however,  in  the 
quiet  voice  with  which  he  asked  the  landlord  if 
he  and  his  horse  could  be  put  up  there  for  the 
night. 

The  company  knew  at  once,  from  the  cut  of  the 
stranger's  tweed  suit,  as  well  as  his  tongue,  that  he 
was  an  Englishman,  not  much  used  to  the  ways  of 
the  country — though,  from  the  revolver  and  knife 
in  his  belt,  and  the  repeating  rifle  in  his  hand,  he 
seemed  to  be  ready  to  meet  the  country  on  its  own 
terms  by  doing  in  Eomc  as  Home  does. 

On  being  told  that  he  could  have  a  space  on  the 
floor  to  lie  on,  which  he  might  convert  into  a  bed  if 
he  had  a  blanket  with  him,  he  seemed  to  make  up 
his  mind  to  remain,  asked  for  food,  and  whiflo  it 
was  preparing  went  out  to  attend  to  his  horse. 
Then,  returning,  he  went  to  a  retired  corner  of  the 
room,  and  flung  himself  down  at  full  length  on  a 
vacant  bench,  as  if  he  were  pretty  well  exhausted 
with  fatigue. 

The  simple  fare  of  the  hostelry  was  soon  ready ; 
and  when  the  stranger  was  engaged  in  eating  it,  he 
asked  a  cow-boy  beside  him  how  far  it  was  to 
Traitor's  Trap. 

At  the  question  there  was  a  perceptible  lull  in 
the  conversation,  and  the  cow-boy,  who  was  a  very 
coarse  forbidding  specimen  of  his  class,  said  that 
he  guessed  Traitor's  Trap  was  distant  about  twenty 
mile  or  so. 


of 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  UOCKIKS. 


M7 


"  Are  you  goin'  thar,  stranger  ? "  he  asked,  eyeing 
his  questioner  curiously. 

"Yes,  I'm  going  there,"  answered  the  English- 
man ;  "  but  from  what  I  *ve  heard  of  the  road,  at 
the  place  where  I  stayed  last  night,  I  don't  like  to  go 
on  without  a  guide  and  daylight — though  I  would 
much  prefer  to  push  on  to-night  if  it  were  possible." 

"  Wall,  stranger,  whether  possible  or  not,"  re- 
turned the  cow-boy,  "  it 's  an  ugly  place  to  go  past, 
for  there 's  a  gang  o'  cut-throats  there  that 's  kep'  the 
country  fizzin'  like  ginger-beer  for  some  time  past. 
A  man  that's  got  to  go  past  Traitor's  Trap  should 
go  by  like  a  greased  thunderbolt,  an'  he  should 
never  go  alone." 

"  Is  it,  then,  such  a  dangerous  place  ? "  asked  the 
Englishman,  with  a  smile  that  fi'oemed  to  say  he 
thought  his  informant  was  exaggerating. 

"  Dangerous ! "  exclaimed  the  cow-boy.  "  Ay,  an' 
will  be  as  long  as  Buck  Tom  an'  his  boys  are 
unhung.  Why,  stranger,  I'd  get  my  life  insured, 
you  bet,  before  I  'd  go  thar  again — except  with  a  big 
crowd  o'  men.  It  was  along  in  June  last  year  I 
went  up  that  way;  there  was  nobody  to  go  with 
me,  an'  I  was  forced  to  do  it  by  myself — for  I  had 
to  go — so  I  spunked  up,  saddled  Bluefire,  an' 
sloped.  I  got  on  lovely  till  I  came  to  a  pass  just 
on  t'other  side  o'  Traitor's  Trap,  when  I  began  to 
cheer  up,  thinkin'  I  'd  got  off  square ;  but  I  hadn't 
gone  another  hundred  yards  when  up  starts  Buck 


1 1 


P 


'1 


ii- 


!  t  m 


3^*^^ 


Mr 


CIIAULIE  TO  THE  UKSCUE :   A  TALE 


! 


Tom  an'  his  men  with  'hands  up.'  I  went  head 
down  Hat  on  my  saddle  instead,  I  was  so  riled. 
Bang  went  a  six-shooter,  an'  the  ball  just  combed 
my  back  hair.  I  suppose  Buck  was  so  took  by 
surprise  at  a  single  man  darin'  to  disobey  his  orders 
that  he  missed.  Anyhow  I  socked  spurs  into  Blue- 
fire,  an'  made  a  break  for  the  open  country  ahead. 
They  made  after  me  like  locomotives  wi'  the  safety- 
valves  blocked,  but  Blucfire  was  more'n  a  match 
for  'em.  They  kep'  blazin'  away  all  the  time  too, 
but  never  touched  me,  though  I  heard  the  balls 
whistlin'  past  for  a  good  while.  Bluefire  an'  me 
went,  you  bet,  like  a  nor'easter  in  a  passion,  .an'  at 
last  they  gave  it  up.  No,  stranger,  take  my  advice 
an'  con't  go  past  Traitor's  Trap  alone.  I  wouldn't 
go  there  at  all  if  I  could  help  it." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  go  past  it.  I  mean  to  go  into 
it,"  said  the  Englishman,  with  a  short  laugh,  as  he 
laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  having  finished  his 
slight  meal ;  "  and,  as  I  cannot  get  a  guide,  I  shall 
be  forced  to  go  alone." 

"  Stranger,"  said  the  cow-boy  in  surprise,  "  d  'ye 
want  -to  meet  wi'  Buck  Tom  ? " 

"  Not  particularly." 

"An'  are  ye  aware  that  Va  ok  Tom  is  one  o'  the 
most  hardened,  sanguinaoious  blackguards  in  all 
Colorado?" 

"  I  did  v.^ifftt  e,  but  I  suppose  I  may 

believe  "      ^    . 


OF  TlIK  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


149 


As  he  spoko  the  Englishman  rose  and  went  out 
to  fetch  the  blanket  which  was  strapped  to  his 
saddle.  In  going  out  he  brushed  close  past  a  man 
who  chanced  to  enter  at  the  same  moment. 

The  new  comer  was  also  a  tall  and  strikingly 
handsome  man,  clothed  in  the  picturesque  garments 
of  the  cow-boy,  and  fully  armed.  He  strode  up  to 
the  counter,  with  an  air  of  proud  defiance,  and 
demanded  drink.  It  was  supplied  him.  He  tossed 
it  off  quickly,  without  deigning  a  glance  at  the 
assembled  company.  Then  in  a  deep-toned  voice 
he  asked — 

"  Has  the  Rankin  Creek  Company  sent  that 
account  and  the  money  ? " 

Profound  silence  had  fallen  on  the  whole  party 
in  the  room  the  moment  this  man  entered.  They 
evidently  looked  at  him  with  profound  interest  if 
not  respect. 

"  Yes,  Buck  Tom,"  answered  the  landlord,  in  his 
grave  off-hand  manner.  "  They  have  sent  it,  and 
authorised  me  to  pay  you  the  balance." 

He  turned  over  some  papers  for  a  few  minutes, 
during  which  Buck  Tom  did  not  condescend  to 
glance  to  one  side  or  the  other,  but  kept  his  eye 
fixed  sternly  on  the  landlord. 

At  that  moment  the  Englishman  re-entered,  went 
to  his  corner,  spread  his  blanket  on  the  floor, 
lay  down,  put  his  wide-awake  over  his  eyes,  and 
resigned    himself    to    repose,   apparently   unaware 


!'! 


»•!' 


-.1  IL 


It: 


■f8'< 


'i!j 


I 


m< 


150 


CHARLIE  TO  TFIE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


that  anything  special  was  going  on,  and  obLUsely 
blind  to  the  quiet  but  eager  signals  wherewith 
the  cow-boy  was  seeking  to  direct  his  attention  to 
Buck  Tom. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  landlord  found  the  paper 
he  wanted,  and  began  to  look  over  it. 

"  The  company  owes  you,"  he  said,  "  three  hun- 
dred dollars  ten  cents  for  the  work  done,"  said  the 
landlord  slowly. 

Buck  nodded  his  head  as  if  satisfied  with  this. 

"Your  account  has  run  on  a  long  while,"  con- 
tinued the  landlord,  "and  they  bid  me  explain 
that  there  is  a  debit  of  two  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  dollars  against  you.  Balance  in  your  favour 
one  dollar  ten  cents," 

A  dark  frown  settled  on  Buck  Tom's  counten- 
ance, as  the  landlord  laid  the  balance  due  on  the 
counter,  and  for  a  few  moments  he  seemed  in  uncer- 
tainty as  to  wliat  he  should  do,  while  the  land- 
lord stood  conveniently  near  to  a  spot  where  one  of 
his  revolvers  lay.  Then  Buck  turned  on  his  heel, 
and  was  striding  towards  the  door,  when  the  land- 
lord called  him  back. 

"  Excuse  my  stopping  you,  Buck  Tom,"  he  said, 
"but  there's  a  gentleman  here  who  wants  a  guide 
to  Traitor's  Trap.  Mayhap  you  wouldn't  object 
to " 

"  Where  is  he  ?"  demanded  Buck,  wheeling  round, 
with  a  look  of  slight  surprise. 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


151 


"  There,"  said  tlio  landlord,  pointing  to  the  dark 
corner  where  the  big  Englishman  lay,  apparently  fast 
asleep,  with  his  hat  pulled  well  down  over  his  eyes. 

Buck  Tom  looked  at  the  sleeping  figure  for  a  few 
moments. 

"  H'm !  well,  I  might  guide  him,"  he  said,  with 
something  of  a  grim  smile,  "  but  I  'm  travelling  too 
fast  for  comfort.  He  might  hamper  me.  By  the 
way,"  he  added,  looking  back  as  he  laid  his  hand 
on  the  door,  "  you  may  tell  the  Eankin  Creek 
Company,  with  my  compliments,  to  buy  a  new  lock 
to  their  office  door,  for  I  intend  to  call  on  them 
some  day  soon  and  balance  up  that  little  account 
on  a  new  system  of  'rithmetic !  Tell  them  I  give 
'em  leave  to  clap  the  one  dollar  ten  cents  to  the 
credit  of  their  charity  account," 

Another  moment  and  Buck  Tom  was  gnne.  Be- 
fore the  company  in  the  tavern  had  quite  recovered 
the  use  of  their  tongues,  the  hoofs  of  his  horse  were 
heard  rattling  along  the  road  which  led  in  the 
direction  of  Traitor's  Trap. 

"  Was  that  really  Buck  Tom  ? "  asked  Hunky  Ben, 
in  some  surprise. 

"  Ay — or  his  ghost,"  answered  the  landlord. 

"  I  can  swear  to  him,  for  I  saw  him  as  clear  as  I 
see  you  the  night  he  split  after  me,"  said  the  cow- 
boy, who  had  warned  the  Englishman. 

"  Why  didn't  you  put  a  bullet  into  him  to-night, 
Crux  ? "  asked  a  comrade. 


I  4 


152 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


if 


i! 


"Just  so — you  had  a  rare  chance,"  remarked 
another  of  the  cow-boys,  with  something  of  a  sneer 
in  his  tone. 

"  Because  I  'm  not  yet  tired  o'  my  life,"  replied 
Crux,  indignantly.  "  Buck  Tom  has  got  eyes  in  the 
back  o'  his  head,  I  do  believe,  and  shoots  dead  like 
a  flash " 

"  Not  that  time  he  missed  you  at  Traitor's  Trap, 
I  think,"  said  the  other. 

"Of  course  not — 'cause  we  was  both  mounted 
that  time,  and  scurryin'  over  rough  ground  like 
wild-cats.  The  best  o'  shots  would  miss  thar  an' 
thus.  Besides,  Buck  Tom  took  nothin'  from  me, 
an'  ye  wouldn't  have  me  shoot  a  man  for  missin'  me 
— surely.  If  you  're  so  fond  o'  killin',  why  didn't 
you  shoot  him  yourself  ? — yoit  had  a  rare  chance ! " 

Crux  grinned — for  his  ugly  mouth  could  not 
compass  a  smile — as  he  thought  thus  to  turn  the 
tables  on  his  comrade. 

"Well,  he's  got  clear  off,  anyhow,  returned  the 
comrade,  an'  it 's  a  pity,  for " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  Englishman  raising 
himself  and  asking  in  a  sleepy  tone  if  there  was 
likely  to  be  moonlight  soon. 

The  company  seemed  to  think  him  moonstruck  to 
ask  such  a  question,  but  one  of  them  replied  that 
the  moon  was  due  in  half  an  hour. 

"  You  've  lost  a  good  chance,  sir,"  said  Crux,  who 
had  a  knack  of  making  all  his  communications  as 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


153 


disagreeably  as  possible,  unless  they  chanced  to  be 
unavoidably  agreeable,  in  which  case  he  made  the 
worst  of  them.  "  Buck  Tom  hisself  has  just  bin 
here,  an'  might  have  agreed  to  guide  you  to  Traitor's 
Trap  if  you  'd  made  him  a  good  offer." 

"  Why  did  you  not  awake  me  ? "  asked  the 
Englishman  in  a  reproachful  tone,  as  he  sprang  up, 
grasped  his  blanket  hastily,  threw  down  a  piece  of 
money  on  the  counter,  and  asked  if  the  road  wasn't 
straight  and  easy  for  a  considerable  distance. 

"Straight  as  an  arrow  for  ten  mile,"  said  the 
landlord,  as  he  laid  down  the  change  which  the 
Englishman  put  into  an  apparently  well-filled  purse. 

"  I  '11  guide  you,  stranger,  for  five  dollars,"  said 
Crux. 

"  I  want  no  guide,"  returned  the  other,  somewhat 
brusquely  as  he  left  the  room. 

A  minute  or  two  later  he  was  heard  to  pass  the 
door  on  horseback  at  a  sharp  trot. 

"  Poor  lad,  he  '11  run  straight  into  the  wolf's  den ; 
but  why  he  wants  to  do  it  puzzles  me,"  remarked 
the  landlord,  as  he  carefully  cleaned  a  tankard. 
"  But  he  would  take  no  warning." 

"  The  wolf  doesn't  seem  half  as  bad  as  he 's  bin 
painted,"  said  Hunky  Ben,  rising  and  offering  to 
pay  his  score. 

"  Hallo,  Hunky — not  goin'  to  skip,  are  ye  ? "  asked 
Crux. 

"  I  told  ye  I  was  in  a  hurry.     Only  waitin'  to 


'% 


!^^^^ 


I      I 


154 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


n  ■  ■% 


rest  my  pony.  My  road  is  the  same  as  the 
stranger's,  at  least  part  o'  the  way.  I  '11  overhaul 
an'  warn  him." 

A  few  minutes  more  and  the  broad-shouldered 
scout  was  also  galloping  along  the  road  or  track 
which  led  towards  the  Eocky  mountains  in  the 
direction  of  Traitor's  Trap. 


i^MIhmCL^ 


OF  TIIK  SKA  AND  THE  llOCKIKS. 


155 


CIIAPTErt   XIII. 

HUNKY  BKN  IS  SOHKLY  rElU'LEXED. 

It  was  one  of  Hunky  Ben's  few  weaknesses  to 
take  pride  in  being  well  mounted.  When  lie  left 
the  tavern  he  bestrode  one  of  his  best  steeds — a 
black  charger  of  unusual  size,  which  he  had 
purchased  while  on  a  trading  trip  in  Texas — and 
many  a  time  had  he  ridden  it  while  guiding  the 
United  States  troops  in  their  frequent  expeditions 
against  ill-disposed  Indians.  Taken  both  together 
it  would  have  been  hard  to  equal,  and  impossible  to 
match,  Hunky  Ben  and  his  coal-black  mare. 

From  the  way  that  Ben  rode,  on  quitting  the 
tavern,  it  might  have  been  supposed  that  legions 
of  wild  Indians  were  at  his  licels.  But  after  going 
about  a  few  miles  at  racing  speed  he  reined  in, 
and  finally  pulled  up  at  a  spot  where  a  very  slight 
pathway  diverged.  Here  he  sat  quite  still  for  a  few 
minutes  in  meditation.  Then  he  muttered  softly  to 
himself — for  Ben  was  often  and  for  long  periods  alone 
in  the  woods  and  on  the  plains,  and  found  it  some- 
what "  sociable-like  "  to  mutter  his  tlioughts  audibly  : 


1 


till*' 


156 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  KESCUE  :    A  TALE 


"You've  not  cotclied  him  up  after  all,  Ben,"  he 
said.  "Black  Polly  a'most  equals  a  streak  o' 
lightnin',  but  the  Britisher  got  too  long  a  start  o' 
ye,  an'  he 's  clearly  in  a  hurry.  Now,  if  I  follow  on 
he  '11  hear  your  foot-falls,  Polly,  an'  p'raps  be  scared 
into  goin'  faster  to  his  doom.  Whereas,  if  I  go  off 
the  track  here  an'  drive  ahead  so  as  to  git  to  the 
Blue  Fork  before  him,  I'll  be  able  to  stop  the 
Buck's  little  game,  an*  save  the  poor  fellow's  life. 
Buck  is  sure  to  stop  him  at  the  Blue  Fork,  for  it 's 
a  handy  spot  for  a  road-agent,^  and  there 's  no  other 
near." 

Hunky  Ben  was  pre-eminently  a  man  of  action. 
As  he  uttered  or  thought  the  last  word  he  gave  a 
little  chirp  which  sent  Black  Polly  along  the 
diverging  track  at  a  speed  which  almost  justified 
the  comparison  of  her  to  lightning. 

The  Blue  Fork  was  a  narrow  pass  or  gorge  in  the 
hills,  the  footpath  through  which  was  rendered 
rugged  and  dangerous  for  cattle  because  of  the 
rocks  that  had  fallen  during  the  course  of  ages 
from  the  cliffs  on  either  side.  Seen  from  a  short 
distance  oft'  on  the  main  track  the  mountains 
beyond  had  a  brilliantly  blue  appearance,  and  a  few 
Imndred  yards  on  the  other  side  of  the  pass  the 
track  forked — hence  the  name.  One  fork  led  up  to 
Traitor's  Trap,  the  other  to  the  fort  of  Quester 
Creek,  an  out-post  of  United  States  troops  for  which 

^  A  liigliwayman. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


157 


Hiiiiky  Ben  was  bound  with  the  warning  that  the 
lledskins  were  contemplating  mischief.  As  Ben 
had  conjectured,  this  was  the  spot  selected  by 
Buck  Tom  as  the  most  suitable  place  for  way- 
laying his  intended  victim.  Doubtless  he  supposed 
that  no  Englishman  would  travel  in  such  a  country 
without  a  good  deal  of  money  about  him,  and  he 
resolved  to  relieve  him  of  it. 

It  was  through  a  thick  belt  of  wood  that  the 
scout  had  to  gallop  at  first,  and  he  soon  outstripped 
the  traveller  who  kept  to  the  main  and,  at  that  part, 
more  circuitous  road,  and  who  was  besides  obliged 
to  advance  cautiously  in  several  places.  On  nearing 
liis  destination,  however,  Ben  pulled  up,  dismounted, 
fastened  his  mare  to  a  tree,  and  proceeded  the  rest 
of  the  way  on  foot  at  a  run,  carrying  his  repeating 
rifle  with  him.  He  had  not  gone  far  wlien  he  came 
upon  a  horse.  It  was  fastened,  like  his  own,  to  a 
tree  in  a  hollow. 

"  Ho  !  ho  ! "  thought  Ben,  "  you  prefer  to  do  yer 
dirty  work  on  foot,  Mr.  Buck  !  Well,  you're  not  far 
wrong  in  such  a  place." 

Advancing  now  with  great  caution,  the  scout  left 
the  track  and  moved  through  the  woods  more  like  a 
visible  ghost  than  a  man,  for  he  was  well  versed  in 
all  the  arts  and  wiles  of  the  Indian,  and  his  mocca- 
siued  feet  made  no  sound  whatever.  Climbing  up 
the  pass  at  some  height  above  the  level  of  the  road, 
so  that  he  might  be  able  to  see  all  that  took  place 


I 


■Ij  I 


158 


CILVrvLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


below,  he  at  last  lay  down  at  full  length,  and  drew 
himself  in  snake  fashion  to  the  edge  of  the  thicket 
that  concealed  him.  Pushing  aside  the  bushes 
gently  he  looked  down,  and  there,  to  his  satisfac- 
tion, beheld  the  man  he  was  in  search  of,  not  thirty 
yards  off. 

Buck  Tom  was  crouching  behind  a  large  mass  of 
rock  close  to  the  track,  and  so  lost  in  the  dark 
shadow  of  it  that  no  ordinary  man  could  have  seen 
him ;  but  nothing  could  escape  the  keen  and 
practised  eye  of  Hunky  Ben.  He  could  not 
indeed  make  out  the  highwayman's  form,  but  he 
knew  that  he  was  there  and  tliat  was  enoucrh. 
Laying  his  rifle  on  a  rock  before  him  in  a  handy 
position  he  silently  watched  the  watcher. 

During  all  this  time  the  Englishman — whom  the 
reader  has  doubtless  recognised  as  Charlie  Brooke — 
was  pushing  on  as  fast  as  he  could  in  the  hope  of 
overtaking  the  man  who  could  guide  him  to  Traitor's 
Trap. 

At  last  he  came  to  the  Blue  Forks,  and  rode  into 
the  pass  with  the  confidence  of  one  who  suspects  no 
evil.  He  drew  rein,  however,  as  he  advanced,  and 
picked  his  way  carefully  along  the  encumbered 
path. 

He  had  "  arely  reached  the  middle  of  it,  where  a 
clear  space  permitted  the  moonbeams  to  full  brightly 
on  the  ground,  when  a  stern  voice  suddenly  broke 
the  stillness  of  the  nigr'it  with  tlie  words — 


F 


OF  THIC  SEA  AND  TIIK  L'OCKIES. 


159 


a 


"  Hands  up  ! " 

Charlie  Brooke  seemed  either  to  be  ignorant  of 
the  ways  of  the  country  and  of  the  fact  that  dis- 
obedience to  the  command  involved  sudden  death, 
or  he  had  grown  unaccountably  reckless,  for  instead 
of  raising  his  arms  and  submitting  to  be  searched 
by  the  robber  who  covered  him  with  a  revolver, 
he  merely  reined  up  and  took  off  his  hat,  allowing 
the  moon  to  shine  lull  on  his  countenance. 

The  effect  on  Buck  Tom  was  singular.  Standing 
with  his  back  to  the  moon,  his  expression  could  not 
be  seen,  but  his  arm  dropped  to  his  side  as  if  it  had 
been  paralysed,  and  the  revolver  fell  to  the  ground. 

Never  had  Buck  Tom  been  nearer  to  his  end  than 
at  that  moment,  for  Hunky  Ben,  sec^'ng  clearly  what 
would  be  the  consequence  of  the  Englishman's  non- 
compliance with  the  command,  was  already  pressing 
the  trigger  that  would  have  sent  a  bullet  into  Buck 
Tom's  brain,  but  the  Englishman's  strange  conduct 
induced  him  to  pause,  and  the  effect  on  the  robber 
caused  him  to  raise  his  head  and  open  wide  his  eyes 
— also  his  ears ! 

"Ah!  Ealph  Ritson,  has  it  come  to  this?"  said 
Charlie,  in  a  voice  that  told  only  of  pity  and  surprise. 

Eor  some  moments  Pialph  did  not  speak.  He 
was  evidently  stunned.  Presently  he  recovered, 
and;  passing  his  hand  over  his  brow,  but  never  tak- 
ing his  eyes  off  the  handsome  face  of  his  former 
friend,  he  said  in  a  low  tone — 


]G0 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


ll 


If 


"  I — I — don't  feel  very  sure  whether  you  're  llesh 
and  blood,  Brooke,  or  a  spirit — but — but " 

"I'm  real  enough  to  be  able  to  shake  hands, 
Eitson,"  returned  our  hero,  dismounting,  and  going 
up  to  his  former  friend,  who  suffered  him  to  grasp 
the  hand  that  had  been  on  the  point  of  taking 
his  life.     "  But  can  it  be  true,  that  I  really  find  you 


a- 


"  It  is  true,  Charlie  Brooke  ;  quite  true — but 
while  you  see  the  result,  you  do  not  see,  and  cannot 
easily  understand,  the  hard  grinding  injustice  that 
has  brought  me  to  this.  The  last  and  worst  blow  I 
received  this  very  nigl.h.  I  have  urgent  need  of 
money — not  for  myself,  believe  me — and  I  came 
down  to  David's  store,  at  some  personal  risk,  I  may 
add,  to  receive  payment  of  a  sum  due  me  fui  acting 
as  a  cow-boy  for  many  months.  The  company, 
instead  of  paying  me " 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  I  heard  it  all,"  said  Charlie. 

"  You  were  only  shamming  sleep,  then  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  knew  you  at  once." 

"Well,  then,"  continued  Buck  Tom  (as  we  shall 
still  continue  to  stylo  him),  "the  disappointment 
made  me  so  desperate  that  I  determined  to  rob  you 
— little  thinking  who  you  were — in  order  to  lieli) 
poor  Shank  Leather " 

"Does  Shank  stand  in  urgent  need  of  help?" 
asked  Charlie,  interrupting. 

"He  does  indeed.      He  has  been  very  ill.     We 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


IGl 


have  run  out  of  funds,  and  he  needs  food  and  physic 
of  a  kind  that  the  mountains  don't  furnisli." 

"Does  he  belong  to  your  band,  Eitson ?" 

"  Well — nearly ;  not  quite !" 

"That  is  a  strange  answer.  How  far  is  it  to 
wi:ere  he  lies  just  now  ?" 

"Six  miles,  about." 

"  Conie,  then,  I  will  go  to  him  if  you  will  show 
me  the  way,"  returned  Charlie,  preparing  to  remount. 
I  have  plenty  of  that  which  poor  Shank  stands  so 
much  in  need  of.  In  fact  I  have  come  here  for  the 
express  purpose  of  huntirig  him  and  you  up.  Would 
it  not  be  well,  by  the  way,  to  ride  back  to  the  store 
for  some  supplies  ?" 

"  No  need,"  answered  Buck  Tom,  stooping  to  pick 
up  his  revolver.  "There's  another  store  not  far 
from  this,  to  which  we  can  send  to-morrow.  We 
can  get  what  we  want  there." 

"But  what  have  you  done  with  your  horse?" 
asked  Charlie  ;  "  I  heard  you  start  on  one." 

"  It  is  not  far  off.     I  '11  go  fetch  it." 

So  saying  the  robber  entered  the  bushes  and  dis- 
appeared. A  few  minutes  later  the  clattering  of 
hoofs  was  heard,  and  in  another  moment  he  rode 
up  to  the  spot  where  our  hero  awaited  him. 

"  Follow  me,"  he  said  ;  "  the  road  becomes  better 
half  a  mile  further  on." 

During  all  this  time  Hunky  Ben  had  stood  witli 
his  rifle  ready,  listening  with  the  feelings  of  a  man 


f 

i 

■. 

1 

•I 

162 


CIIAULIE  TO  THE  llESCUE :   A  TALE 


in  a  dream.  He  watched  the  robber  and  his  victim 
ride  quietly  away  until  they  were  out  of  sight. 
Then  he  stood  up,  tilted  his  cap  on  one  side,  and 
scratched  his  head  in  great  perplexity. 

"  Well,  now,"  he  said  at  length,"  this  is  about  the 
queerest  affair  I  've  corned  across  .since  I  was  raised. 
It's  a  marcy  I  was  born  with  a  quiet  spirit,  for 
another  chip  off  the  small  end  of  a  moment  an' 
Buck  Tom  would  have  bin  with  his  fathers  in  their 
happy,  or  otherwise,  huntin'  grounds!  It's  quite 
clear  that  them  two  liave  bin  friends,  mayhap  pards, 
in  the  old  country.  An'  Buck  Tom  (that 's  Ritson, 
I  think  he  called  him)  has  bin  driven  to  it  by  injus- 
tice, has  he  ?  Ah  !  Buck,  if  all  the  world  that  suf- 
fers injustice  was  to  take  to  robbery  it 's  not  many 
respectable  folk  would  be  left  to  rob.  "Well,  well, 
my  comin'  off  in  such  a  splittfi'  hurry  to  take  care 
o'  this  Britisher  is  a  wild-goose  chase  arter  all ! 
It 's  not  the  first  one  you  've  bin  led  into  anyhow, 
an'  it 's  time  you  was  lookin'  arter  yer  own  business, 
Hunky  Ben." 

While  giving  vent  to  these  remarks  in  low  mut- 
tering tones,  the  scout  was  quickly  retracing  his 
steps  to  the  place  where  he  had  tied  up  Black  Polly. 
Mounting  her  he  returned  to  the  main  track,  pro- 
ceeded along  it  until  he  reached  the  place  beyond 
the  pass  where  the  roads  forked;  then,  selecting 
that  which  diverged  to  the  left,  he  set  off  at  a  hard 
gallop  in  tlie  direction  of  Quester  Creek. 


J 


OF  THE  SE\  AND  THE  IIOCKIEJ. 


1G3 


! 


CHAPTEE    XIV. 


THE  HAUNT  Of  THK  OUTLAWS, 


i 


Afteu  riding  through  the  Blue  Fork  Charlie 
and  Buck  Tom  came  to  a  stretch  of  open  ground  of 
considerable  extent,  where  they  could  ride  abreast, 
and  here  the  latter  gave  the  former  some  account  of 
the  condition  of  Shank  Leather. 

"  Tell  me,  Eitson,"  said  Charlie,  "  what  you  mean 
by  Shank  '  nearly  '  and  *  not  quite '  belonging  to 
your  band." 

The  outlaw  was  silent  for  some  time.  Then  he 
seemed  to  make  up  his  mind  to  speak  out. 

"  Brooke,"  he  sair.,  "  it  did,  till  this  night,  seem  to 
me  that  all  the  better  feelings  of  my  nature — what- 
ever they  were — had  been  blotted  out  of  existence, 
for  since  I  came  to  this  part  of  the  world  the  cruelty 
and  injustice  that  I  have  witnessed  and  suffered 
have  driven  me  to  desperation,  and  I  candidly  con- 
fess to  you  that  I  have  come  to  hate  pretty  nigh 
the  whole  human  race.  The  grip  of  your  hand  and 
tone  of  your  voice,  however,  have  told  me  that  I 
have  not  yet  sunk  to  the   lowest  possible  depths. 


«*»»i«*t.-<Mir»f'ni^^«| 


164 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


But  tliat  is  not  what  I  mean  to  enlarge  on.  Wliat 
I  wish  you  to  understand  is,  that  after  Shank  and  I 
had  gone  to  the  dogs,  and  were  reduced  to  beggary, 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  join  a  band  of  men  who 
lived  chiefly  by  their  wits,  and  sometimes  by  their 
personal  courage.  Of  course  I  won't  say  who  they 
are,  because  we  still  hang  together,  and  there  is 
no  need  to  say  what  we  are.  The  profession  is 
variously  named,  and  not  highly  respected. 

"Shank  refused  to  join  me,  so  we  parted.  He 
remained  for  some  time  in  New  York  doing  odd 
jobs  for  a  living.  Then  he  joined  a  small  party  of 
emigrants,  and  journeyed  west.  Strange  to  say, 
although  the  country  is  wide,  he  and  I  agai'^  met 
accidentally.  My  fellows  wanted  to  overhaul  the 
goods  of  the  emigrants  with  whom  he  travelled. 
They  objected.  A  fight  followed  in  which  there 
was  no  bloodshed,  for  the  emigrants  fled  at  the  first 
war-whoop.  A  shot  from  one  of  them,  however, 
wounded  one  of  our  men,  and  one  of  theirs  was  so 
drunk  at  the  time  of  the  flight  that  he  fell  oif  his 
horse  and  was  captured.  That  man  was  Sb.ank.  I 
recognised  him  when  I  rode  up  to  see  what  some  of  my 
boys  were  quarrelling  over,  and  found  that  ic  was  the 
wounded  man  wanting  to  shove  his  knife  into  Shank. 

"  The  moment  I  saw  his  lace  I  claimed  him  as  an 
old  chum,  and  had  him  carried  up  to  our  head- 
quarters in  Traitor's  Trap.  Theie  he  has  remained 
ever  since,  in  a  very  shaky  condition,  for  I  he  fall 


f-:' 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


165 


seems  to  have  injured  him  internally,  besides  almost 
breaking  his  neck.  Indeed  I  think  his  spine  is 
damaged, — he  recovers  so  slowly.  We  have  tried  to 
persuade  him  to  say  that  he  will  become  one  of  us 
when  he  gets  well,  but  up  to  this  time  he  has 
steadily  refused.  I  am  not  sorry ;  for,  to  say  truth, 
I  don't  want  to  force  any  one  into  such  a  line  of  life 
— and  he  does  not  look  as  if  he  'd  be  fit  for  it,  or 
anything  else,  for  many  a  day  to  come." 

"But  how  does  it  happen  that  you  are  in  such 
straits  just  now?"  asked  Charlie,  seeing  that  Buck 
paused,  and  seemed  unwilling  to  make  further 
explanations. 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  we  have  not  been  successful  of 
late ;  no  chances  have  come  in  our  way,  and  two  of 
our  best  men  have  taken  their  departure — one  to 
gold-digging  in  California,  the  other  to  the  happy 
hunting  grounds  of  the  Eedskin,  or  elsewhere. 
Luck,  in  short,  seems  to  have  forsaken  us.  Pious 
folk,"  he  added,  with  something  of  a  sneer,  "  would 
say,  no  doubt,  that  God  had  forsaken  us." 

"  I  think  pious  people  would  not  say  so,  and  they 
would  be  wrong  if  they  did,"  returned  Charlie.  "  In 
my  opinion  God  never  forsakes  any  one ;  but  when 
His  creatures  forsake  him  He  thwarts  them.  It 
cannot  be  otherwise  if  His  laws  are  to  be  vindicated." 

"It  may  be  so.  But  what  have  I  done,"  said 
Buck  Tom  fiercely,  "to  merit  the  bad  treatment 
and  insufferaMe   injustice  which   I  have  received 


166 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


since  I  came  to  this  accursed  land  ?  I  cannot  stand 
injustice.  It  makes  my  blood  boil,  and  so,  since  it 
is  rampant  here,  and  everybody  has  been  unjust  to 
me,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  pay  them  back  in 
their  own  coin.  There  seems  to  me  even  a  spice  of 
justice  in  that." 

"  I  wonder  that  you  cannot  see  the  Tallacy  of  your 
reasoning,  Eitson,"  replied  Charlie.  "  You  ask, 
*  "What  have  I  done  ?'  The  more  appropriate  ques- 
tion would  be, '  What  have  I  not  done  V  Have  you 
not,  according  to  your  own  confession,  rebelled 
against  your  Maker  and  cast  Him  off;  yet  you  expect 
Him  to  continue  His  supplies  of  food  to  you;  to 
keep  up  your  physical  strength  and  powers  of  enjoy- 
ing life,  and,  under  the  name  of  Luck,  to  furnish  you 
with  the  opj)ortunity  of  breaking  His  own  commands 
by  throwing  people  in  your  way  to  be  robbed ! 
Besides  which,  have  you  not  yourself  bec^n  guilty  of 
gross  injustice  in  leading  poor  weak  Shank  Leather 
into  vicious  courses — to  his  great,  if  not  irreparable, 
damage  ?  I  don't  profess  to  teach  theology,  Ealph 
Eitson,  my  old  friend,  but  I  do  think  that  even  an 
average  cow-boy  could  understand  that  a  rebel  has 
no  claim  to  forgiveness — much  less  to  favour — until 
he  lays  down  his  arms  and  gives  in.'* 

"  Had  any  other  man  but  you,  Charlie  Brooke, 
said  half  as  much  as  you  liave  just  said  to  me,  I 
would  have  blown  his  brains  out,"  returned  the 
outlaw  sternly. 


.^^  "*» 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


167 


"  I  'm  very  glad  no  other  man  did  say  it,  then," 
returned  Charlie,  "  for  your  hands  must  be  suffi- 
ciently stained  already.  But  don't  let  anger  blind 
you  to  the  fact,  Ealph,  that  you  and  I  were  once 
old  friends;  that  I  am  your  friend  still,  and  that, 
what  is  of  far  greater  importance,  the  Almighty  is 
still  your  friend,  and  is  proving  Hi. .  friendship  by 
thwarting  you." 

"  You  preach  a  strange  doctrine,"  said  Buck  Tom, 
laughing  softly,  "but  you  must  end  your  iermon 
here  in  the  meantime,  for  we  have  reached  the 
entrance  to  Traitor's  Trap,  and  have  not  room  to 
ride  further  abreast.  I  will  lead,  and  do  you  follow 
with  care,  for  the  path  is  none  o'  the  safest.  My 
asking  you  to  follow  me  is  a  stronger  proof  than 
you  may  think  that  I  believe  in  your  friendship. 
Most  strangers  whom  I  escort  up  this  gorge  are 
usually  requested  to  lead  the  way,  and  I  keep  my 
revolver  handy  lest  they  should  stray  from  the 
track!" 

The  defile  or  gorge  which  they  had  reached  was 
not  inappropriately  named,  for,  although  the  origin 
of  the  name  was  unknown,  the  appearance  of  the 
place  was  eminently  suggestive  of  blackness  and 
treachery.  Two  spurs  of  the  mountain  range 
formed  a  precipitous  and  rugged  valley  which, 
even  in  daylight,  wore  a  forbidding  aspect,  and  at 
night  seemed  the  very  portal  to  Erebus. 

"  Keep  close  to  my  horse's  tail,"  said  Buck  Tom, 


j/e^^sa^simiaid 


1G8 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :  A  TALK 


as  they  commenced  the  ascent.  "  If  you  stray  here, 
ever  so  little,  your  horse  will  break  his  neck  or 
legs." 

Thus  admonished,  our  hero  kept  a  firm  hand  on 
the  bridle,  and  closed  up  as  much  as  possible  on  his 
guide.  The  moon  was  by  this  time  clouded  over, 
so  that,  with  the  precipitous  cliffs  on  either  side,  and 
the  great  mass  of  the  mountains  further  up,  there 
WPS  only  that  faint  sombre  appearance  of  things 
which  is  sometimes  described  as  darkness  visible. 
The  travellers  proceeded  slowly,  for,  besides  the 
danger  of  straying  off  the  path,  the  steepness  of  the 
ascent  rendered  rapid  motion  impossible.  After 
riding  for  about  three  miles  thus  in  absolute  silence, 
they  came  to  a  spot  where  the  track  became  some- 
what serpentine,  an^l  Charlie  could  perceive  dimly 
that  they  were  winding  amongst  great  fragments  of 
rock  which  were  here  and  tliere  over-canopied  by 
foliage,  but  whether  of  trees  or  buslies  he  could  not 
distinguish.  At  last  they  came  to  a  holt  in  front  of 
what  appeared  to  be  a  elifi'. 

"  Dismount  here,"  said  Buck  in  a  low  voice, 
setting  the  example. 

"  Is  this  the  end  of  our  ride  ? " 

"  It  is.  Give  me  the  bridle.  I  will  put  up  your 
horse.     Stand  where  you  are  till  I  return." 

The  outlaw  led  the  horses  away,  leaving  his 
former  friend  and  schoolfellow  in  a  curious  position, 
and  a  not  very  comfortable  frame  of  mind. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


169 


When  a  man  is  engaged  in  action — especially  if 
it  be  exciting  and  slightly  dangerous — he  has  not 
time  to  think  much  about  his  surroundings,  at  least 
about  their  details,  but  now,  while  standing  there 
in  the  intense  darkness,  in  the  very  heart — as  he 
had  reason  to  believe — of  a  robber's  stronghold, 
young  Brooke  could  not  help  questioning  his 
wisdom  in  having  thus  thrown  himself  into  the 
power  of  one  who  had  obviously  deteriorated  and 
fallen  very  low  since  the  time  when  in  England 
they  had  studied  and  romped  together.  It  was  too 
late,  however,  to  questio^i  the  wisdom  of  his  conduct. 
There  he  was,  and  so  he  must  make  the  best  of  it. 
He  did  not  indeed  fear  treachery  in  his  former 
friend,  but  he  could  not  help  reflecting  that  the 
reckless  and  perhaps  desperate  men  with  whom 
tliat  friend  was  now  associated  might  not  be  easy 
to  restrain,  especially  if  they  should  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  fact  that  he  carried  a  considerable 
sum  of  money  about  him. 

He  was  yet  pondering  his  position  when  Buck 
Tom  returned. 

"  Ealph  EitS'  i,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  the 
arm  of  the  outlaw,  "  you  11  forgive  my  speaking 
plainly  to  you,  I  know.  With  regard  to  yourself  I 
have  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  that  you  will  act  the 
part  of  an  honourable  host,  though  you  follow  a 
dishonourable  calling.  But  T  have  no  guarantee 
that  those  who  associate  with  you  will  respect  my 


170 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


Mi 
It 


property.  Now,  I  have  a  considerable  sum  of 
money  about  me  in  gold  and  silver,  which  I  brought 
here  expressly  for  the  benefit  of  our  poor  friend 
Shank  Leather.  What  would  you  advise  me  to  do 
in  regard  to  it  ? " 

"  Intrust  it  to  my  care,"  said  Buck  promptly. 

Charlie  could  not  see  the  outlaw's  face  very 
clearly,  but  he  could  easily  detect  the  half-amused 
half-mocking  tone  in  which  the  suggestion  was  made. 

"  My  good  fellow,"  said  Charlie,  in  a  hearty  voice, 
"you  evidently  think  I  am  afraid  to  trust  you. 
That  is  a  mistake.  I  do  not  indeed  trust  to  any 
remnant  of  good  tliat  is  in  your  poor  human  nature, 
but  I  have  confidence  in  the  good  feeling  which  God 
is  arousing  in  you  just  now.  I  will  freely  hand 
over  the  money  if  you  can  assure  me  that  you  can 
guard  it  from  your  comrades." 

"  This  will  make  it  secure  from  them"  returned 
Buck,  with  a  short  defiant  laugh. 

"  Humph ! "  exclaimed  Charlie  with  a  shrug. 
"  I  've  not  much  confidence  in  that  safeguard.  No 
doubt,  in  certain  circumstances,  and  on  certain  oc- 
casions, the  revolver  is  a  most  important  and  use- 
ful instrument,  but  taking  it  all  round  I  would  not 
put  much  store  by  it.  When  you  met  me  at  the 
Blue  Fork  to-night,  for  instance,  of  what  use  was 
my  revolver  to  me  ?  And,  for  the  matter  of  that, 
after  you  had  drorped  it  on  the  road  of  what  use 
was   yours   to   you?     It   only  wants  one  of  your 


C^ 


iiiiii 


Mi 


OF  THE  SEA  ANi>  THE  IIOCKIES. 


171 


fellows  to  have  more  pluck  and  a  quicker  eye  and 
hand  than  yourself  to  dethrone  you  at  once." 

"  Well,  none  of  my  fellows,"  returned  Buck  Tom 
good-humouredly,  "happen  to  have  the  advantage 
of  me  at  present,  so  you  may  trust  me  and  count 
this  one  o'  the  *  certain  occasions '  in  which  the 
revolver  is  '  a  most  important  instrument.' " 

"I  dare  say  you  are  right,"  responded  Charlie, 
smiling,  as  he  drew  from  the  breast  of  his  coat  a 
small  bag  and  handed  it  to  his  companion. 

"  You  know  exactly,  of  course,  how  much  is 
here  ? "  asked  Buck  Tom. 

"  Yes,  exactly." 

"That's  all  right,"  continued  Buck,  thrusting  the 
l)ag  into  the  bosom  of  his  hunting  coat ;  "  now  I  '11 
see  if  any  o'  the  boys  are  at  home.  Doubtless  they 
are  out — else  they'd  have  heard  us  by  this  time. 
Just  wait  a  minute." 

He  seemed  to  melt  into  the  darkness  as  he  spoke. 
Another  minute  and  he  re-appeared. 

"  Here,  give  me  your  hand,"  he  said ;  "  the  passage 
is  darkish  at  first." 

Charlie  Brooke  felt  rather  than  saw  that  they 
had  passed  under  a  portal  of  some  sort,  and  were 
advancing  along  a  narrow  passage.  Soon  they  turned 
to  the  left,  and  a  faint  red  light — as  of  fire — became 
visible  in  the  distance.     Buck  Tom  stopped. 

"  There 's  no  one  in  the  cave  but  him,  and  he  's 
asleep.     Follow  me." 


172 


CIIAllLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


The  passage  in  which  they  stood  led  to  a  third 
and  shorter  one,  where  tlie  liglit  at  its  extremity 
was  intense,  lighting  up  the  whole  of  the  place  so 
as  to  reveal  its  character.  It  was  a  corridor 
about  seven  feet  high  and  four  feet  wide  cut  out 
of  the  solid  earth;  arched  in  the  roof  and  sup- 
ported here  and  there  by  rougli  posts  to  make  it 
still  more  secure.  Charlie  at  once  concluded  that  it 
led  to  one  of  those  concealed  caverns,  of  which  he 
had  heard  more  than  once  while  crossing  tl\e 
country,  the  entrances  of  which  are  made  in  zig-zag 
form  in  order  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  a  ray  of 
light  issuing  from  the  outside  opening. 

On  reaching  the  end  of  the  third  passage  he 
found  that  his  conjecture  was  right,  for  the  door- 
way or  opening  on  his  left  hand  conducted  into  a 
spacious  cave,  also  hollowed  out  of  the  earth,  but 
apparoitly  against  a  perpendicular  cliff,  for  the 
inner  end  of  it  was  of  unhewn  rock.  The  roof  of  the 
cave  was  supported  by  pillars  which  were  merely 
sections  of  pine-trees  with  the  bark  left  on.  These 
pillars  and  the  earthen  walls  were  adorned  with 
antlers,  skulls,  and  horns  of  the  Rocky  mountain 
sheep,  necklaces  of  grizzly-bear's  claws,  Indian  bows 
and  arrows,  rifles,  short  swords,  and  various  other 
weapons  and  trophies  of  the  chase,  besides  sundry 
articles  of  clothing.  At  the  inner  end  of  the  cave 
a  large  fireplace  and  chimney  had  been  rudely  buiH, 
and  in  this  was  roaring  the  pine-wood  five  which 


OF  THK  SEA  A^D  THE  ROCKIES. 


173 


had  lighted  them  iu,  and  which  caused  the  whole 
interior  to  glow  with  a  vivid  glare  that  seemed  to 
surpass  that  of  noon-day. 

A  number  of  couches  of  pine-brush  were  spread 
round  the  walls,  and  on  one  of  these  lay  a  sleeping 
figure.  The  face  was  turned  towards  the  visitor, 
who  saw  at  a  glance  that  it  was  that  of  his  former 
friend  and  playmate — but  it  was  terribly  changed. 
Hard  toil,  suffering,  sickness,  dissipation,  had  set 
indelible  marks  on  it,  and  there  was  a  slight  curve 
about  the  eyebrows  which  gave  the  idea  of  habitual 
pain.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  worn  and  lined  though 
it  was,  the  face  seemed  far  more  attractive  and 
refined  tlian  it  had  ever  been  in  the  days  of  robust 
health. 

Buck  Tom  went  to  the  fire  and  began  to  stir  the 
contents  of  a  big  pot  that  hung  over  it,  while 
Charlie  advanced  and  stood  for  some  minutes  gazing 
at  the  countenance  of  his  friend,  unwilling  to  dis- 
turb his  slumbers,  yet  longing  to  cheer  him  with 
the  glad  news  that  he  had  come  to  succour  him. 
He  chanced,  however,  to  touch  a  twig  of  the  pine 
branches  on  which  the  sleeper  lay,  and  Shank  awoke 
instantly,  raised  himself  on  one  elbow,  and  returned 
his  friend's  gaze  earnestly,  but  without  the  slightest 
symptom  of  surprise. 

"  0  Charlie,"  he  sf  id  at  last,  in  a  quiet  voice, 
"  I  wish  you  hadn't  come  to  me  to-night." 

He   stopped,  and   Charlie   felt   quite   unable   to 


jiyill 
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I 


174 


CIIARLIl!:  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


speak,  owing  to  intense  pity,  mingled  with  astonish- 
ment, at  such  a  reception. 

"It's  too  bad  of  you,"  Shank  went  on,  "worrying 
me  so  in  my  dreams.  I  'm  weary  of  it;  and  if  you 
only  knew  what  a  terrible  disappointment  it  is  to 
me  when  I  awake  and  don't  iind  you  there,  you 
wouldn't  tantalise  me  so.  You  always  look  so  ter- 
ribly real  too  !  Man,  I  could  almost  pledge  my  life 
that  you  are  no  deception  this  time,  but — but  I  'm 
so  used  to  it  now  that " 

"  Shank,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Charlie,  finding  words 
at  last,  "it  is  no  dec^.ption " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  for  the  intense  look  of 
eager  anxiety,  doubt,  xnd  hope  in  the  thin  expres- 
sive face  alarmed  him. 

"Charlie!"  gasped,  rather  than  said,  the  invalid, 
"  you — you  never  spoke  to  me  before  in  my  dreams, 
and — you  never  touched — the  grip  of  your  strong 
h 0  God !  can  it  be  true  V 

At  this  point  Buck  Tom  suddenly  left  off  his 
occupation  at  the  fire  anc  went  out  of  the  cave. 


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OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


175 


CHAPTER    XV. 


LOST  AND  FOUND. 


"  Try  to  be  calm,  Shank,"  said  Charlie,  in  a  sooth- 
ing tone,  as  he  kneeled  beside  the  shadow  that  had 
once  been  his  sturdy  chum,  and  put  an  arm  on 
his  shoulder.  "It  is  indeed  myself  tliis  time.  I 
have  come  all  the  way  from  England  to  seek  you, 
for  we  heard,  through  Ritson,  tliat  you  were  ill  and 
lost  in  these  wilds,  and  now,  through  God's  mercy, 
1  have  found  you." 

"While  Charlie  Brooke  was  speaking,  the  poor 
invalid  was  breathing  hard  and  gazing  at  him,  as  if 
to  make  quite  sure  it  was  all  true. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  at  last,  unable  to  raise  his  voice 
above  a  hoarse  whisper,  "lost — and — and — found! 
0  Charlie,  my  friend — my  chum — my " 

He  could  say  no  more,  but,  laying  his  head  like  a 
little  child  on  the  broad  bosom  of  his  rescuer,  he 
burst  into  a  passionate  flood  of  tears. 

Albeit  strong  of  will,  and  not  by  any  means 
given  to  the  melting  mood,  our  hero  was  unable 
for  a  minute  or  two  to  make  free  use  of  his 
voice. 


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N 


176 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:   A  TALE 


"  Come,  now,  Shank,  old  man,  you  mustn't  give 
way  like  that.  You  wouldn't,  you  know,  if  you  had 
not  been  terribly  reduced  by  illness " 

"Yes,  I  would!  yes,  I  would!"  interrupted  the 
sick  man,  almost  passionately ;  "  I  'd  howl,  I  'd  roar, 
I'd  blubber  like  a  very  idiot,  I'd  do  any  mortal  thing, 
if  the  doing  of  it  would  only  make  you  understand 
liow  I  appreciate  your  great  kindness  in  coming  out 
here  to  save  me." 

"  Oh  no,  you  wouldn't,"  said  Charlie,,  affecting  an 
easy  off-liand  tone,  which  he  was  far  from  feeling ; 
"you  wouldn't  do  anything  to  please  me." 

"  What  d'  ye  mean  ?"  asked  Shan*c,  with  a  look  of 
surprise. 

"  Well,  I  mean,"  returned  the  other,  gently,  "  that 
you  won't  even  do  such  a  trifle  as  to  lie  down  and 
keep  quiet  to  please  me." 

A  smile  lighted  up  the  emaciated  features  of  the 
sick  man,  as  he  promptly  lay  back  at  full  length  an^i 
shut  his  eyes. 

"  There,  Charlie,"  he  said,  "  I  '11  behave,  and  let 
you  do  all  the  talking ;  but  don't  let  go  my  hand, 
old  man.  Keep  a  tight  grip  of  it.  I  'm  terrified 
lest  you  drift  off  again,  and — and  melt  away." 

"  No  fear.  Shank.  1 11  not  let  go  my  hold  of  you, 
please  God,  till  I  carry  you  back  to  old  England." 

"  Ah !  old  England  !  I  '11  never  see  it  again.  I 
feel  that.  But  tell  me  " —  he  started  up  again,  with  a 
return  of  the  excited  look — "  is  father  any  better  ?" 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


177 


"  N — no,  not  exactly — but  he  is  no  worse.  I  '11 
tell  you  all  about  everything  if  you  will  only  lie 
down  again  and  keep  silent." 

The  invalid  once  more  lay  back,  closed  his  eyes 
and  listened,  while  his  friend  related  to  him  all  that 
he  knev/  about  his  family  affairs,  and  the  kindness 
of  old  Jacob  Crossley,  who  had  not  only  befriended 
them  when  in  great  distress,  but  had  furnished  the 
money  to  enable  him  (Charlie)  to  visit  these  out- 
landish regions  for  the  express  purpose  of  rescuing 
Shank  from  all  his  troubles  and  dangers. 

At  this  point  the  invalid  interrupted  him  with  an 
anxious  look. 

"  Have  you  the  money  with  you  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"All  of  it?" 

"Yes.     Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  Because,"  returned  Shank,  with  something  of  a 
groan,  "you  are  in  a  den  of  thieves  !" 

"  I  know  it,  my  boy,"  returned  Charlie,  with  a 
smile,  "  and  so,  for  better  security,  I  have  given  it 
in  charge  to  our  old  chum,  Ealph  Eitson." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Shank,  starting  up  again 
with  wide  open  eyes ;  "  you  have  met  Ealph, 
then?" 

"  I  have.     He  conducted  me  here." 

"And  you  have  intrusted  your  money  to  him  ?" 

"  Yes — all  of  it ;  every  cent !" 

"  Are  you  aware,"  continued  Shank,  in  a  solemn 

M 


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178 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


r  i 


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Hi 


tone,  "  that  RiJph  Ritson  is  Buck  Tom — the  noted 
chief  of  the  outlaws  ?" 

"  I  know  it." 

"  And  you  trust  him  ? " 

"  I  do.  I  have  perfect  confidence  that  he  is  quite 
incapable  of  betraying  an  old  friend." 

For  some  time  Shank  looked  at  his  companion  in 
surprise;  then  an  absent  look  came  into  his  eyes, 
and  a  variety  of  expressions  passed  over  his  wan 
visage.    At  last  he  spoke. 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  Charlie,  but  somehow  I 
think  you  are  right.  It 's  an  old  complaint  of  mine, 
you  know,  to  come  round  to  your  way  of  thinking, 
whether  I  admit  it  or  not.  In  days  of  old  I  usually 
refused  to  admit  it,  but  believed  in  you  all  the 
same  !  If  any  man  had  told  me  this  morning — ay, 
even  half  an  hour  since — that  he  had  placed  money 
in  the  hands  of  Buck  Tom  for  safe  keeping,  know- 
ing who  and  what  he  is,  I  would  have  counted  him 
an  incurable  fool ;  but  now,  somehow,  I  do  believe 
that  you  were  quite  right  to  do  it,  and  that  your 
money  is  as  safe  as  if  it  were  in  the  Bank  of 
England." 

"  But  I  did  not  intrust  it  to  Buck  Tom,  knowing 
who  and  what  he  is"  returned  Charlie,  with  a  signi- 
ficant smile,  "  I  put  it  into  the  hands  of  Ralph 
Ritson,  knowing  who  and  what  he  luas." 

"You're  a  good  fellow,  Charlie,"  said  Shank, 
squeezing  the  hand  that  held  his,  "  and  I  believe  it 


ill 


■i'.-ifj  («w--r-««~» 


of 


OF  TIIR  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIKS. 


]79 


is  that  very  trustfulness  of  yours  which  gives  you 
so  great  power  and  influence  with  people.  I  know 
it  has  influenced  me  for  good  many  a  time  in  the 
past,  and  would  continue  to  do  so  still  if  I  were  not 
past  redemption." 

"No  man  is  past  redemption,"  said  the  other 
quietly ;  "  but  I  'm  glad  you  agree  with  me  about 
Kalph,  for " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  and  both  men  turned  their 
eyes  towards  the  entrance  to  the  cave. 

"  Did  you  hear  anything  ?"  asked  Shank,  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  I  thought  so — but  it  must  have  been  the  shift- 
ing of  a  log  on  the  fire,"  said  the  other,  in  a  similarly 
low  tone. 

"  Come,  no^^ ,  Charlie,"  said  Shank,  in  his  ordinary 
tones,  "  let  me  hear  something  about  yourself.  You 
have  not  said  a  word  yet  about  what  you  have  been 
doing  these  three  years  past." 

As  he  spoke  a  slight  noise  was  again  heard  in  the 
passage,  and,  next  moment.  Buck  Tom  re-entered 
carrying  a  lump  of  meat.  Whether  he  had  been 
listening  or  not  they  had  no  means  of  knowing,  for 
his  countenance  was  quite  grave  and  natural  in 
appearance. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  had  long  enough,  you  two,  to 
renew  your  old  acquaintance,"  he  said.  "  It  behoves 
me  now  to  get  ready  some  supper  for  the  boys 
against  their  return,  for  they  would  be  ill-pleased  to 


M 


i 


|i    i 


T 


180 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  KESCUE :  A  TALE 


come  home  to  an  empty  kettle,  and  their  appetites 
are  surprisingly  strong.  But  you  needn't  interrupt 
your  conversation.  I  can  do  my  work  without 
disturbing  you." 

"We  have  no  secrets  to  communicate,  Buck," 
returned  Shank,  "and  I  have  no  doubt  that  the 
account  of  himself,  which  our  old  chum  was  just 
going  to  give,  will  be  as  interesting  to  you  as  to 
me." 

"  Quite  as  interesting,"  rejoined  Buck  ;  "  so  pray 
go  on,  Brooke.  I  can  listen  while  I  look  after  the 
cookery." 

Thus  urged,  our  hero  proceeded  to  relate  his  own 
adventures  at  sea — the  wreck  of  the  Walrus,  the 
rescue  by  the  whaler,  and  his  various  experiences 
both  afloat  and  ashore. 

"  The  man,  Dick  Darvall,  whom  I  have  mentioned 
several  times,"  said  Charlie,  in  conclusion,  "I  met 
with  again  in  Fjw  York,  when  I  was  about  to  start 
to  come  here,  and  as  I  wanted  a  companion,  and  he 
was  a  most  suitable  man,  besides  being  willing  to 
come,  I  engaged  him.  He  is  a  rough  and  ready,  but 
a  handy  and  faithful,  man,  who  had  some  experience 
in  woodcraft  before  he  went  to  sea,  but  I  have  been 
forced  to  leave  him  behind  me  at  a  ranch  a  good 
many  miles  to  the  south  of  David's  store,  owing  to 
the  foolish  fellow  having  tried  to  jump  a  creek  in 
the  dark  and  broken  his  horse's  leg.  We  could  not 
get  another  horse  at  the  time,  and  as  I  was  very 


ii 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


181 


anxious  to  push  on — being  so  near  my  journey's 
end — and  the  ranch  was  a  comfortable  enough  berth, 
I  left  him  behind,  as  I  have  said,  with  directions  to 
stay  till  I  should  return,  or  to  push  on  if  he  could 
find  a  safe  guide." 

While  Charlie  Brooke  was  relating  the  last  part 
of  his  experience,  it  might  have  been  observed  that 
the  countenance  of  Buck  Tom  underwent  a  variety 
of  curious  changes,  like  the  sky  of  an  April  day.  A 
somewhat  stern  frown  settled  on  it  at  last,  but 
neither  of  his  companions  observed  the  fact,  being 
too  much  interested  in  each  other. 

"What  was  the  name  o*  the  ranch  where  your 
mate  was  left  ?"  asked  Buck  Tom,  when  his  guest 
ceased  speaking. 

"  The  ranch  of  Roaring  Bull,"  answered  Charlie. 
"I  should  not  wonder,"  he  added,  "if  its  name 
were  derived  from  its  owner's  voice,  for  it  sounded 
like  the  blast  of  a  trombone  when  he  shouted  to  his 
people." 

"  Not  only  his  ranch  but  himself  is  named  after 
his  voice,"  returned  Buck.  "His  real  name  is 
Jackson,  but  it  is  seldom  used  now.  Every  one 
knows  him  as  Eoaring  Bull.  He 's  not  a  bad  fellow 
at  bottom,  but  something  overbearing,  and  has  made 
a  good  many  enemies  since  he  came  to  this  part  of 
the  country  six  years  ago." 

"  That  may  be  so,"  remarked  Brooke,  "  but  he  was 
very  kind  to  us  the  day  we  put  up  at  his  place,  and 


;l      !; 


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182 


CHARLIE  TO  TIIK  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


Dick  Darvall,  at  all  events,  is  not  one  of  his  enemies. 
Indeed  he  and  Roaring  Bull  took  quite  a  fancy  to 
each  other.  It  seemed  like  love  at  first  sight. 
Whether  Jackson's  pretiy  daughter  had  anything 
to  do  with  the  fancy  on  Dick's  part  of  course  I  can't 
say.  Now,  I  think  of  it,  his  readiness  to  remain 
behind  inclines  me  to  believe  it  had !" 

"Well,  come  outside  with  me,  and  have  a  chat 
about  old  times.  It  is  too  hot  for  comfort  here.  I 
dare  say  our  friend  Shank  will  spare  you  for  quarter 
of  an  hour,  and  the  pot  can  look  after  itself.  By 
the  way,  it  would  be  as  well  to  call  me  Buck  Tom — 
or  Buck.  My  fellows  would  not  understand  Ralph 
Ritson.  They  never  heard  it  before.  Have  a 
cigar?" 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  have  ceased  to  see  the  advan- 
tage of  poisoning  one's-self  merely  because  it  is  the 
fashion  to  do  so." 

"  The  poison  is  wonderfully  slow,"  said  Buck. 

"  But  noc  less  wonderfully  sure,"  returned  Charlie, 
with  a  smile. 

"As  you  will,"  rejoined  Buck,  rising  and  going 
outside  with  his  visitor. 

The  night  was  very  still  and  beautiful,  and, 
the  clouds  having  cleared  away,  the  moonceams 
struggled  through  the  foliage  and  revealed  the 
extreme  wildness  and  seclusion  of  the  spot  which 
had  been  chosen  by  the  outlaws  as  their  fortress. 

Charlie  now  saw  that  the  approach  to  the  entrance 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


183 


of  tlie  cave  was  a  narrow  neck  of  rock  resembling  a 
natural  bridge,  with  a  deep  gully  on  either  side,  and 
that  the  cliff  which  formed  the  inner  end  of  the 
cavern  overhung  its  base,  so  that  if  an  enemy  were 
to  attempt  to  hurl  rooks  down  from  above  these 
would  drop  beyond  the  cave  altogether.  This  much 
he  saw  at  a  gL.nce.  The  minute  details  and  intri- 
cacies of  the  place  of  course  could  not  be  properly 
seen  or  undersuood  in  the  flickering  and  uncertain 
light  which  penetrated  the  leafy  canopy,  and,  as  it 
were,  played  with  the  shadows  of  the  fallen  rocks 
that  strewed  the  ground  everywhere,  and  hung  in 
apparently  perilous  positions  on  the  mountain 
slopes. 

The  manner  of  the  outlaw  changed  to  that  of 
intense  earnestness  the  moment  he  got  out  to  the 
open  air. 

"  Charlie  Brooke,"  he  said,  with  more  of  the  tone 
and  air  of  old  familiar  friendship  than  he  had  yet 
allowed  himself  to  assume,  "  it 's  of  no  use  exciting 
poor  Shank  unnecessarily,  so  I  brought  you  out  here 
to  tell  you  that  your  man  Dick  Darvall  is  in  deadly 
peril,  and  nothing  but  immediate  action  on  my  part 
can  save  him;  I  must  ride  without  delay  to  his 
rescue.  You  cannot  help  me  in  this.  I  know  what 
you  are  going  to  propose,  but  you  nmst  trust  and 
obey  me  if  you  would  save  your  friend's  life.  To 
accompany  me  would  only  delay  and  finally  mar 
my  plans.    Now,  will  you " 


ft     li-l 


,JI 


184 


CIIAHLIE  to  TIIK  rescue  :   A  TALE 


A  peculiar  whistle  far  down  the  gorge  caused  the 
outlaw  to  cease  abruptly  and  listen. 

The  whistle  was  repeated,  and  Buck  answered  it 
at  once  with  a  look  of  great  surprise. 

"  These  are  my  fellows  back  already  ! "  he  said. 

"  You  seem  surprised.  Did  you,  then,  not  expect 
them  so  soon  ? " 

"I  certainly  did  not;  something  must  have 
gone  wrong,"  replied  Buck,  with  a  perplexed  look. 
Then,  as  if  some  new  idea  had  flashed  upon  him, 
"  Now,  look  here,  Brooke,  I  must  ask  you  to  trust 
me  implicitly  and  to  act  a  part.  Your  life  may 
depend  on  your  doing  this." 

"  The  first  I  can  do  with  ease,  but  as  to  the  latter, 
my  agreeing  to  do  so  depends  on  whether  the  action 
you  require  of  me  is  honourable.  You  must  forgive 
me,  Kits " 

"  Hush  !  Don't  forget  that  there  is  no  such  man 
as  Ralph  Ritson  in  these  mountains.  My  life  may 
depend  on  your  remembering  that.  Of  course  I 
don't  expect  you  to  act  a  dishonourable  part, — all 
I  want  you  to  do  just  now  is  to  lie  down  and  pre- 
tend to  go  to  sleep." 

"  Truly,  if  that  is  all  I  am  ready,"  said  Charlie ; 
"at  all  events  I  will  shut  my  eyes  and  hold  my 
tongue." 

"A  useful  virtue  at  times,  and  somewhat  rare," 
said  Buck,  leading  his  guest  back  into  the  cavern. 
"Now,  then,  Brooke,  lie  down  there,"  pointing  to 


OF  tup:  sea  and  tiik  hockiks. 


186 


a  couch  of  pine-brush  in  a  corner,  "and  try  to  sleep 
if  you  can." 

Our  hero'  at  once  complied,  stretched  iiimself  at 
full  length  with  liis  face  to  the  light,  and  apparently 
went  to  sleep,  but  with  his  left  arm  thrown  over  his 
forehead  as  if  to  protect  his  eyes  from  the  glare  of 
the  fire.  Thus  he  was  in  a  position  to  see  as  well 
as  hear  all  that  went  on.  Buck  Tom  went  to  the 
sick  man  and  whispered  something  to  him.  Then, 
returning  to  the  fire,  he  continued  to  stir  the  big 
pot,  and  sniff  its  savoury  contents  with  much 
interest. 


i  ;.  i 


':•  I     ! 


,'1 


-I 


n 


y  e* 


1 


186 


CPIARLIE  TO  niE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

FRIENDS  ANT)  FOES— PLOTP.  AND  COUNTERPLOTS  - 
THE  RANCH  IN  DANGER. 

In  a  few  miimtes  the  sound  of  heavy  feet  and 
gruff  voices  was  heard  in  the  outside  passage,  and 
next  moment  ten  men  filed  into  the  room  and 
saluted  their  chi3f  heartily. 

Char'^ie  felt  an  almost  irresistible  tendency  to 
open  his  eyes,  but  knew  that  the  risk  was  too  great, 
and  contented  himself  with  his  ears.  These  told 
him  pretty  eloquently  what  was  going  on,  for  sud- 
denly, the  noise  of  voices  and  clattering  of  footsteps 
ceased,  a  dead  silence  ensued,  and  Charlie  knew 
that  the  whole  band  were  gazing  at  him  with  wide 
open  eyes  and,  probably,  open  mouths.  Their 
attention  had  been  directed  to  the  stranger  by  the 
chief.     The  silence  was  only  momentary,  however. 

"  Now^  don't  begin  to  whisper,  pards,"  said  Buck 
Tom,  in  a  slightly  sarcastic  tone.  "  When  will  ye 
learn  that  there  is  nothing  so  likely  to  waken  a 
sleeper  as  whisperin'  ?  Be  natural — be  natural,  and 
tell  me,  as  softly  as  ye  can  in  your  natural  tones, 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


187 


what  has  brought  you  back  so  soon.  Come,  Jake, 
you  have  got  the  quietest  voice.  The  poor  man  is 
pretty  well  knocked  up  and  needs  rest.  I  brought 
him  here." 

"  Has  he  got  much ? "  the  sentence  was  com- 
pleted by  Jake  significantly  slapping  his  pocket. 

"  A  goodish  lot.  But  come,  sit  down  and  out  wi' 
the  news.     Something  must  be  wrong." 

"  Wall,  I  guess  that  somethin'  is  wrong.  Every- 
thing 's  wrong,  as  far  as  I  can  see.  The  Eedskins 
are  up,  an'  the  troops  are  out,  an'  so  it  seemed  o* 
no  use  our  goin'  to  bust  up  the  ranch  of  Koarin' 
Bull,  seein*  that  the  red  devils  are  likely  to  be  there 
before  us.  So  we  came  back  here,  an'  I'm  glad 
you've  got  suthin'  in  the  pot,  for  we're  about  as 
emj  ty  as  kettledrums." 

"  Humph ! "  ejaculated  Buck,  "  didn't  I  tell  you 
not  to  trouble  Eoarin'  Bull — that  he  and  his  boys 
could  lick  you  if  you  had  been  twenty  instead  of 
ten.  But  how  came  ye  to  hear  o'  this  cock-and- 
bull  story  about  the  Eedskins  ? " 

"We  got  it  from  Hunky  Ben,  an'  he's  not  the 
bey  to  go  spreadin'  false  reports." 

Charlie  Brooke  ventured  at  this  point  to  open  his 
eye-lids  the  smallest  possible  bit,  so  that  any  one 
looking  at  him  would  have  failed  to  observe  any 
motion  in  them.  The  little  slit,  however,  admitted 
the  whole  scene  to  the  retina,  and  he  perceived  that 
ten  of  the  most  cut-throat-looking  men  conceivable 


I 


i 


i    :  n: 


itl 


■i         !'.t 


i-- 


m 


II 


188 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  KESCUE :  A  TALE 


« 


di 


! 


were  seated  in  a  semicircle  in  the  act  of  receiving 
portions  from  the  big  pot  into  tin  plates.  Most  of 
them  were  clothed  in  hunters'  leathern  costume, 
wore  long  boots  with  spurs,  and  were  more  or  less 
bronzed  and  bearded. 

Buck  Tom,  alias  lialpli  Kitson,  although  as  tall 
and  strong  as  any  of  them,  seemed  a  being  of  quite 
angelic  gentleness  beside  them.,  Yet  Buck  was 
their  acknowledged  chief.  No  doubt  it  was  due  to 
the  superiority  of  mind  over  matter,  for  those  out- 
laws were  grossly  material  and  matter-of-fact ! 

"  There  must  be  some  truth  in  the  report  if  Hunky 
Ben  carried  it,"  said  Buck,  looking  up  quickly,  "  but 
I  left  Ben  sitting  quietly  in  David's  store  not  many 
hours  ago." 

"  No  doubt  that 's  true,  Captain,"  said  Jake,  as  he 
ladled  the  soup  into  his  capacious  mouth ;  "  never- 
theless we  met  Hunky  Ben  on  the  pine-river  prairie 
scourin'  over  the  turf  like  all  possessed  on  Black 
Polly.  We  stopped  him  of  course  an'  asked  the 
news." 

" '  News  ! '  cried  he,  '  why,  the  Eedskins  have  dug 
up  the  hatchet  an'  riz  like  one  man.  They  've  clar'd 
out  Yellow  Bluff,  an'  are  pourin'  like  Niagara  down 
upon  Kasper's  Creek.  It's  said  that  they'll  visit 
Eoarin'  Bull's  ranch  to-morrow.  No  time  for  more 
talk,  boys.  Oratin'  ain't  in  my  line.  I'm  off  to 
Quester  Creek  to  rouse  up  the  troops.'  Wi'  that 
llunky  wlieeled  round  an'  went  off  like  a  runaway 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


189 


streak  o*  liglitnin'.  I  sent  a  couple  o*  shots  after 
him,  for  I  'd  took  a  fancy  to  Black  Polly — but  them 
bullets  didn't  seem  to  hit  somehow." 

"Boys,"  cried  Buck  Tom,  jumping  up  when  he 
heard  this,  "  if  Hunky  Ben  said  all  that,  you  may 
depend  on 't  it 's  true,  an'  we  won't  have  to  waste 
time  this  night  if  we  're  to  save  the  ranch  of  Eoarin' 
Bull." 

"  But  we  don't  want  to  save  the  ranch  of  Eoarin' 
Bull,  as  far  as  I'm  consarned,"  said  Jake  rather 
sulkily. 

Buck  wheeled  round  on  the  man  with  a  fierce 
glare,  but,  as  if  suddenly  changing  his  mind,  he  said 
in  a  tone  of  well-feigned  surprise — "  What !  you, 
Jake,  of  all  men — such  a  noted  lady-killer — 
indifferent  about  the  fate  of  the  ranch  of  Eoaring 
Bull,  and  pretty  Miss  Mary  Jackson  in  it,  at  the 
mercy  of  the  Eedskins  ! " 

"  Well,  if  it  comes  to  that.  Captain,  1  '11  ride  as  far 
and  as  fast  as  any  man  to  rescue  a  girl,  pretty  or 
plain,  from  the  Eedskins,"  said  Jake,  recovering  his 
good-humou.. 

"  Well,  then,  cram  as  much  grub  as  you  can  into 
you  in  five  minutes,  for  we  must  be  off  by  that  time. 
Eise,  sir,"  said  Buck,  shaking  Charlie  with  some 
violence.  "  We  ride  on  a  matter  of  life  an'  death — 
to  save  women.     Will  you  join  us  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  will ! "  cried  Charlie,  starting  up 
with  a  degree  of  alacrity  and  vigour  that  'avourably 


l'      ' 


m 


•■it 


fS^n 


i! 


< '.  m 


li 


hi 

;  ! .    ,.l 


'U 


.'  ■ 


190 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:    A  TALE 


impressed  the  outlaws,  and  shaking  off  his  simulated 
sleep  witli  wonderful  facility. 

"  Follow  me,  then,"  cried  Buck,  hastening  out  of 
the  cave. 

"  But  what  of  Shank  ? "  asked  Charlie,  in  some 
anxiety,  when  they  got  outside.  "  He  cannot  accom- 
pany us  ;  may  we  safely  leave  him  behind  ? " 

"  Quite  safely.  This  place  is  not  known  to  the 
savages  who  are  on  the  warpath,  and  there  is  no- 
thing to  tempt  them  this  way  even  if  it  were. 
Besides,  SLauk  is  well  enough  to  get  up  and  gather 
firewood,  kindle  his  fire,  and  boil  the  kettle  for 
himself.  He  is  used  to  being  left  alone.  See,  here 
is  our  stable  under  the  cliff,  and  yonder  stands  your 
horse.  Saddle  him.  The  boys  will  be  at  our  heels 
in  a  moment.  Some  of  them  are  only  too  glad  to 
have  a  brush  wi'  the  Eedskins,  for  they  killed  two 
of  our  band  lately." 

This  last  remark  raised  an  uncomfortable  feeling 
in  the  mind  of  Charlie,  for  was  he  not  virtually 
allying  himself  with  a  band  of  outlaws,  with  intent 
to  attack  a  band  of  Indians  of  whom  he  knew  little 
or  nothing,  and  with  whom  he  had  no  quarrel  ? 
There  was  no  time,  however,  to  weigh  the  case 
critically.  The  fact  that  savages  were  about  to 
attack  the  ranch  in  which  his  comrade  Dick  Darvall 
was  staying,  and  that  there  were  females  in  the 
place,  was  enough  to  settle  the  question.  In  a 
minute  or  two  he  had  saddled  his  horse,  which  he 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


191 


led  out  and  fastened  to  a  tree,  and  while  the  outlaws 
were  busy  making  preparations  for  a  start  he  ran 
back  to  the  cave. 

"  Shank,"  said  he,  sitting  down  beside  his  friend 
and  taking  his  hand,  "you  have  heard  the  news. 
My  comrade  Darvall  is  in  great  danger.  I  must 
away  to  his  rescue.  But  be  sure,  old  fellow,  that 
I  will  return  to  you  soon." 

"  Yes,  yes — I  know,"  returned  Shank,  with  a  look 
of  great  anxiety ; "  but,  Charlie,  you  don't  know  half 
the  danger  you  run.  Don't  fight  with  Buck  Tom — 
do  you  hear  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  won't,"  said  Charlie,  in  some  sur- 
prise. 

"No,  no,  that's  not  what  I  mean,"  said  Shank, 
with  increasing  anxiety.  "  Don't  fight  in  company 
with  him." 

At  that  moment  the  voice  of  the  outlaw  was 
heard  at  the  entrance  shouting, "  Come  along,  Brooke, 
we  're  all  ready." 

"Don't  be  anxious  about  me,  Shank;  I'll  take 
good  care,"  said  Charlie,  as  he  hastily  pressed  the 
hand  of  the  invalid  and  hurried  away. 

The  ten  men  with  Buck  at  their  head  were  already 
mounted  when  he  ran  out. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  vaulting  into  the  saddle, 
"  I  was  having  a  word  with  the  sick  man." 

"  Keep  next  to  me,  and  close  up,"  said  Buck,  as  he 
wheeled  to  the  right  and  trotted  away. 


N 


I 


n 


192 


'k  i- 


Um 


CJlAllUE  TO  THE  llESCUE  :   A  TALE 


Down  the  Traitor's  Trap  tliey  went  at  what  was 
to  Charlie  a  break-neck  but  satisfactory  pace,  for 
now  that  he  was  fairly  on  the  road  a  desperate 
anxiety  lest  they  should  be  too  late  took  possession 
of  him.  Across  an  open  space  they  went,  at  the 
bottom  of  which  ran  a  brawling  rivulet.  There  was 
no  bridge,  but  over  or  through  it  went  the  whole 
band  without  the  slightest  check,  and  onward  at  full 
gallop,  for  the  country  became  more  level  and  open 
just  beyond. 

The  moon  was  still  shining  although  sinking 
towards  the  horizon,  and  now  for  the  first  time 
Charlie  began  to  note  with  what  a  stern  and  reck- 
less band  of  men  he  was  riding,  and  a  feeling  of 
something  like  exultation  arose  within  him  as  he 
thought  on  the  one  hand  of  the  irresistible  sweep  of 
an  onslaught  from  such  men,  and,  on  the  other,  of 
the  cruelties  that  savages  were  known  to  practise. 
In  short,  rushing  to  the  rescue  was  naturally  con- 
genial to  our  hero. 

About  the  same  time  that  the  outlaws  were  thus 
hastening  for  once  on  an  honourable  mission — 
though  some  of  them  went  from  anything  but 
honourable  motives — two  other  bands  of  men  were 
converging  to  the  same  point  as  fast  as  they  could 
go.  These  were  a  company  of  United  States  troops, 
guided  by  Hunky  Ben,  and  a  large  band  of  Indians 
under  their  warlike  chief  Bigfoot. 

Jackson,  alias  Roaring  Bull,  had  once  inadvertently 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


193 


given  offence  to  Bigfoot,  and  as  that  chief  was  both 
by  nature  and  profession  an  unforgiving  man  he  had 
vowed  to  have  his  revenge.  Jackson  treated  the 
threat  lightly,  but  his  pretty  daughter  Mary  was 
not  quite  as  indifferent  about  it  as  her  father. 
The  stories  of  Indian  raids  and  frontier  wars  and 
barbarous  cruelties  had  made  a  deep  impression 
on  her  sensitive  mind,  and  when  her  mother  died, 
leaving  her  the  only  woman  at  her  father's  ranch — 
with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  half-breed  women, 
who  could  not  be  much  to  her  as  companions — her 
life  had  been  very  lonely,  and  her  spirit  had  been 
subjected  to  frequent,  though  hitherto  groundless, 
alarms. 

But  pretty  Moll,  as  she  was  generally  called,  was 
well  protected,  for  her  father,  besides  having  been  a 
noted  pugilist  in  his  youth,  was  a  big,  powerful  man, 
and  an  expert  with  rifle  and  revolver.  Moreover, 
there  was  not  a  cow-boy  within  a  hundred  miles 
of  her  who  would  not  (at  least  thought  he  would 
not)  have  attacked  single-handed  the  whole  race  of 
Eedskins  if  Moll  had  ordered  him  to  do  so  as  a 
proof  of  affection. 

Now,  when  strapping,  good-looking  Dick  Darvall 
came  to  the  ranch  in  the  course  of  his  travels  and 
beheld  Mary  Jackson,  and  received  the  first  broad- 
side from  her  bright  blue  eyes,  he  hauled  down  his 
colours  and  surrendered  with  a  celerity  which  would 
have  mightily  amused  the  many  comrades  to  whom 

N 


194 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


I 


ftt- 


I  ; 

f-  -i 


! 


he  had  said  in  days  of  yore  that  his  heart  was  as 
harrl  as  rock,  and  he  had  never  yet  seen  the  woman 
as  coukl  soften  it ! 

But  Dick,  more  than  most  of  his  calling,  was  a 
modest,  almost  a  bashful,  man.  He  behaved  to  Mary 
with  the  politeness  that  was  natural  to  him,  and 
with  which  he  would  have  approached  any  woman. 
He  did  not  make  the  slightest  attempt  to  show  his 
admiration  of  her,  though  it  is  quite  within  the 
bounds  of  possibility  that  his  "speaking"  brown 
eyes  may  have  said  something  without  his  permis- 
sion !  Mary  Jackson,  being  also  modest  in  a  degree, 
of  course  did  not  reveal  the  state  of  her  feelings,  and 
made  no  visible  attempt  to  ascertain  his,  but  her  bluff 
sagacious  old  father  was  not  obtuse — neither  was  he 
reticent.  He  was  a  man  of  the  world — at  least  of 
the  back-woods  world — and  his  knowledge  of  life,  as 
there  exhibited,  was  founded  on  somewhat  acute 
experience.  He  knew  that  his  daughter  was  young 
and  remarkably  pretty.  He  saw  that  Dick  Darvall 
was  also  young — a  dashing  and  unusually  handsome 
sailor — something  like  what  Tom  Bowling  may  have 
been.  Putting  these  things  together,  he  came  to  the 
very  natural  conclusion  that  a  wedding  would  be 
desirable ;  believing,  as  he  did,  that  human  nature  in 
the  Eockies  is  very  much  the  same  as  to  its  founda- 
tion elements  as  it  is  elsewhere.  Moreover,  Koaring 
Bull  was  very  much  in  want  of  a  stout  son-in-law  at 
that  time,  so  he  fanned  the  flame  which  he  fondly 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


195 


hoped  was  beginning  to  arise.  This  he  did  in  a 
somewhat  blundering  and  obvious  manner,  but 
Dick  was  too  much  engrossed  with  Mary  to  notice 
it,  and  Mary  was  too  ignorant  of  the  civilised  world's 
ways  to  care  much  for  the  proprieties  of  life. 

Of  course  this  state  of  things  created  an  awful 
commotion  in  the  breasts  of  the  cow-boys  who  were 
in  the  employment  of  Mary's  father  and  herded  his 
cattle.  Their  mutual  jealousies  were  sunk  in  the 
supreme  danger  that  threatened  them  all,  and  they 
were  only  restrained  from  picking  a  quarrel  with 
Dick  and  shooting  him  by  the  calmly  resolute  look- 
in  his  brown  eyes,  coupled  with  his  great  physical 
power  and  his  irresistible  good-nature.  Urbanity 
seemed  to  have  been  the  mould  in  which  the  spirit 
of  this  man-of-the-sea  had  been  cast,  and  gentleness 
was  one  of  his  chief  characteristics.  Moreover, 
he  could  tell  a  good  story,  and  sing  a  good  song  in 
a  fine  bass  voice.  Still  further,  although  those 
gallant  cow-boys  felt  intensely  jealous  of  this  new- 
comer, they  could  not  but  admit  that  they  had 
nothing  tangible  to  go  upon,  for  the  sailor  did  not 
apparently  pay  any  pointed  attention  to  Mary,  and 
she  certainly  gave  no  special  encouragement  to  him. 

There  was  one  cow-boy,  however,  of  Irish  descent, 
who  could  not  or  would  not  make  up  his  mind  to 
take  things  quietly,  but  resolved,  as  far  as  he  was 
concerned,  to  bring  matters  to  a  head.  His  name 
was  Pat  Reilly. 


<■'.  i] 


i    ■    » 


m 


H 


I  ■  *j 


196 


i.-f 


.'*..! 


i  .   ! 


f    ( 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


He  entered  the  kitchen  on  the  day  after  Dick's 
aiTival  and  found  Mary  alone  and  busily  engaged 
with  the  dinner. 

"Miss  Jackson,"  said  Pat,  "there's  a  question 
I've  bin  wan  tin'  to  ax  ye  for  a  long  time  past,  an' 
with  your  lave  I  '11  putt  it  now." 

"  What  is  it,  Mr.  Eeilly  ?"  asked  the  girl  somewhat 
stiffly,  for  she  had  a  suspicion  of  what  was  coming. 
A  little  negro  girl  in  the  back  kitchen  named 
Buttercup  also  had  a  suspicion  of  what  was  coming, 
and  stationed  herself  with  intense  delight  behind 
the  door,  through  a  crack  in  which  she  could  both 
hear  and  see. 

"  Mary,  my  dear,"  said  Pat  insinuatingly,  "  how 
would  you  like  to  jump  into  double  harness  with 
me  an'  jog  along  tho  path  o'  life  together  ? " 

Poor  Mary,  being  agitated  by  the  proposal,  and 
much  amused  by  the  manner  of  it,  bent  over  a  pot 
of  something  and  tried  to  hide  her  blushes  and 
amusement  in  the  steam.  Buttercup  glared,  grinned, 
hugged  herself,  and  waited  for  more. 

Pat,  erroneously  supposing  that  silence  meant 
consent,  slipped  an  arm  round  Mary's  waist.  No 
man  had  ever  yet  dared  to  do  such  a  thing  to  her. 
The  indignant  girl  suddenly  wheeled  round  and 
brought  her  pretty  little  palm  down  on  the  cow- 
boy's cheek  with  all  her  might — and  that  was 
considerable ! 

"  Who  *s    a-firin'    off   pistles    in    de    kitchen  ? " 


r 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


197 


demanded  Buttercup  in  a  serious  tone,  as  she 
popped  her  woolly  head  through  the  doorway. 

"  Nobody,  me  black  darliri',"  said  Pat ;  "  it 's  only 
Miss  Mary  expressin'  her  failin's  in  a  cheeky 
manner.     That 's  all ! " 

So  saying  the  rejected  cow-boy  left  the  scene 
of  his  discomfiture,  mounted  his  mustang,  took  his 
departure  from  the  ranch  of  Roarin'  Bull  without 
saying  farewell,  and  when  next  heard  of  had 
crossed  the  lonely  Guadalupe  mountains  into 
Lincoln  County,  New  Mexico. 

But  to  return.  While  the  troops  and  the  outlaws 
were  hastening  thus  to  the  rescue  of  the  dwellers  in 
Bull's  ranch,  and  the  blood-thirsty  Eedskins  were 
making  for  the  same  point,  bent  on  the  destruction 
of  all  its  inhabitants.  Roaring  Bull  himself,  his 
pretty  daughter,  and  Dick  Darvall,  were  seated  in 
the  ranch  enjoying  their  supper,  all  ignorant  alike 
of  the  movements  of  friend  and  foe,  with  Butter- 
cup waiting  on  them. 

One  messenger,  however,  was  speeding  on  his 
way  to  warn  them  of  danger.  This  was  the  cow- 
boy Crux,  who  had  been  despatched  on  Bluefire  by 
Hunky  Ben  just  before  that  sturdy  scout  had 
started  to  call  out  the  cavalry  at  Quester  Creek. 


Ill 


}lfl^ 


irr 


198 


ClIAULlii  TO  THE  llESCUE  :   A  TALE 


CHAPTEK   XVII. 

THE  ALAKM  AND   I'llBrAUATlONS  KOU  DEFKNCE. 

"FiiOM  what  you  say  I  should  think  that  my 
friend  Brooke  won't  have  much  trouble  in  findin' 
Traitor's  Trap,"  remarked  Dick  Darvall,  pausing  in 
the  disposal  of  a  venison  steak  whicl:  had  been 
cooked  by  the  fair  hands  of  Mary  Jackson  lierself, 
"  but  I  'm  sorely  afraid  o*  the  reception  he  '11  meet 
with  when  he  gets  there,  if  the  men  are  such  awful 
blackguards  as  you  describe." 

"  They  're  the  biggest  hounds  unhung,"  growled 
Roaring  Bull,  bringing  one  hand  down  on  the  board 
by  way  of  emphasis,  while  with  the  other  he  held 
out  his  plate  for  another  steak. 

"  You  're  too  hard  on  some  of  them,  father,"  said 
Mary,  in  a  voice  the  softness  of  which  seemed  ap- 
propriate to  the  beauty  of  her  face. 

"  Always  the  way  wi'  you  wenches,"  observed  the 
father.  "Some  o'  the  villains  are  good-lookin', 
others  are  ugly ;  so,  the  first  are  not  so  bad  as  the 
second — eh,  lass  ? " 

Mary  laughed.  She  was  accustomed  to  her 
father's  somewhat  rough  but  not  ill-natured  rebuffs. 


OF  THE  SEA.  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


199 


"Perhaps  1  may  bo  prejudicet',  fatliur,"  she  re- 
turned ;  "  but,  apart  from  that,  surely  you  would 
never  compare  Buck  Tom  with  Jake  the  Flint, 
though  they  do  belong  to  the  same  band." 

"  You  a'"e  right,  my  lass,"  rejoined  her  father. 
"  They  do  say  that  Buck  Tom  is  a  gentleman,  and 
often  keeps  back  his  boys  from  devilry — though  ho 
can't  always  manage  that,  an*  no  wonder,  for  Jake 
the  Flint  is  the  cruellest  monster  'tween  this  an' 
Texas  if  all  that 's  said  of  him  be  true." 

"I  wish  my  comrade  was  well  out  o'  their 
clutches,"  said  Dick,  with  a  look  of  anxiety ;  "  an'  it 
makes  me  feel  very  small  to  be  sittin'  here  eiijoyin' 
myself  when  I  might  be  ridin'  on  to  help  him  if  he 
should  need  help." 

"  Don't  worry  yourself  on  that  score,"  said  the 
host.  "You  couldn't  find  your  way  without  a 
guide  though  I  was  to  give  ye  the  best  horse  in  my 
stable — which  I  'd  do  slick  off  if  it  was  of  any  use. 
There 's  not  one  o'  my  boys  on  the  ranch  just  now, 
but  there  '11  be  four  or  five  of  'em  in  to-morrow  by 
daylight,  an'  I  promise  you  the  first  that  comes  in. 
They  all  know  the  country  for  three  hundred  miles 
around — every  inch — an'  you  may  ride  my  best 
horse  till  you  drop  him  if  ye  can.  There,  now, 
wash  down  your  victuals  an'  give  us  a  yarn,  or  a 


song. 


•'  I  'm  quite  sure,"  added  Mary,  by  way  of  en- 
couragement, "  that  with  one  of  the  outlaws  for  an 


11 


! 


\\\ 


200 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  KESCUE  :   A  TALE 


U..-a 


I 


old  friend,  Mr.  Brooke  will  be  quite  safe  among 
them " 

"  But  he 's  oiot  an  outlaw,  Miss  Mary,"  broke  in 
Darvall.  "Leastwise  we  have  the  best  reason  for 
believin'  that  he 's  detained  among  them  against  his 
will.  Hows'ever,  it's  of  no  use  cryin'  over  spilt 
milk.  I  'm  bound  to  lay  at  anchor  in  this  port  till 
mornin',  so,  as  I  can  c  get  up  steam  for  a  song  in  the 
circumstances,  here  goes  for  a  yarn." 

The  yarn  to  which  our  handsome  seaman  treated 
his  audience  was  nothing  more  than  an  account  of  one 
of  his  numerous  experiences  on  the  ocean,  but  he 
had  such  a  pleasant,  earnest,  truth-like,  and  confi- 
dential way  of  relating  it,  and,  withal  interlarded  his 
speech  with  so  many  little  touches  of  humour,  that 
the  audience  became  fascinated  and  sat  in  open-eyed 
forgetfulness  of  all  else.  Buttercup,  in  particular, 
became  so  engrossed  as  to  forget  herself  as  well  as 
her  duties,  and  stood  behind  her  master  in  an  ex- 
pectant attitude,  glaring  at  the  story-teller,  with 
bated  breath,  profound  sympathy,  and  extreme  readi- 
ness to  appreciate  every  joke  whether  good  or  bad. 

In  the  midst  of  one  of  the  most  telling  of  his 
anecdotes  the  speaker  was  suddenly  arrested  by  the 
quick  tramp  of  a  galloping  horse,  the  rider  of  which, 
judging  from  the  sound,  seemed  to  be  in  hot  haste. 

All  eyes  were  turned  inquiringly  on  the  master 
of  the  ranch.  That  cool  individual,  rising  with 
quiet  yet  rapid  action,  reached  down  a  magazine 


mm 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


201 


repeating  rifle  that  hung  ready  loaded  above  the 
door  of  the  room. 

Observing  this,  Dick  Darvall  drew  a  revolver 
from  his  coat-pocket  and  followed  his  host  to  the 
outer  door  of  the  house.  Mary  accompanied  them, 
and  Buttercup  retired  to  the  back  kitchen  as  being 
her  appropriate  stronghold. 

They  had  hardly  reached  and  flung  open  the  door 
when  Bluefire  came  foaming  and  smoking  into  the 
yard  with  Crux  the  cow-boy  on  his  back. 

"  Wall,  Koaring  Bull,"  cried  Crux,  leaping  off  his 
horse  and  coming  forward  as  quietly  as  if  there  were 
nothing  the  matter.  "  I  'm  glad  to  see  you  0.  K.,  for 
the  Cheyenne  Eeds  are  on  the  war-path,  an'  makin' 
tracks  for  your  ranch.  But  as  they  've  not  got  here 
yet,  they  won't  likely  attack  till  the  moon  goes  down. 
Is  there  any  chuck  goin'  ?    I  'm  half  starved." 

"  Ay,  Crux,  lots  o'  chuck  here.  Come  in  an'  let 's 
hear  all  about.     Where  got  ye  the  news  ? " 

"  Hunky  Ben  sent  me.  He  wasn't  thinkin'  o'  you 
at  first,  but  when  a  boy  came  in  wi'  the  news  that 
a  crowd  o'  the  Eeds  had  gone  round  by  Pine  Hollow 
— ^just  as  he  was  fixin'  to  pull  out  for  Quester  Creek 
to  rouse  up  the  cavalry — he  asked  me  to  come  on 
here  an'  warn  you." 

While  he  was  speaking  the  cow-boy  sat  down  to 
supper  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  meant  business, 
while  the  host  and  his  sailor  guest  went  to  look 
after  the  defences  of  the  place. 


202 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


m 


1-1 


II I 


ii 


**  I  'm  glad  you  are  here,  Dick  Darvall,"  said  the 
former,  "for  it's  a  bad  job  to  be  obliged  to  fight 
without  help  agin  a  crowd  o'  yellin'  Eeds.  My  boys 
won't  be  back  till  sun-up,  an'  by  that  time  the  game 
may  be  played  out." 

"D'ee  think  the  Redskins '11  attack  us  to-night 
then  ? "  asked  the  sailor  as  he  assisted  to  close  th 
gates  of  the  yard. 

"  Ay,  that  they  will,  lad.  They  know  the  value 
o'  time  better  than  most  men,  and,  when  they  see 
their  chance,  are  not  slow  to  take  advantage  of  it. 
As  Crux  said,  they  won't  attack  while  the  moon 
shines,  so  we  have  plenty  of  time  to  git  ready  for 
them.  I  wish  I  hadn't  sent  off  my  boys,  but  as  bad 
luck  would  have  it  a  bunch  o'  my  steers  have  drifted 
down  south,  an*  I  can't  afford  to  lose  them — so,  you 
see,  there 's  not  a  man  left  in  the  place  but  you  an' 
me  an'  Crux  to  defend  poor  Mary." 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Dick  Darvall  felt  a 
distinct  tendency  to  rejoice  over  the  fact  that  he 
was  a  young  and  powerful  man!  To  live  and,  if 
need  be,  die  for  Mary  was  worth  living  for ! 

"  Are  you  well  supplied  with  arms  an'  ammuni- 
tion ? "  he  asked. 

"  That  am  I,  and  we  '11  need  it  all,"  answered  the 
host,  as  he  led  Dick  round  to  the  back  of  the  yard 
where  another  gate  required  fastening. 

"  I  don't  see  that  it  matters  much,"  said  Dick  in 
a  questioning  tone,  "  whether  you  shut  the  gates  or 


Iti-^ 


OF  THH  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


203 


,not.  AVith  so  few  to  defend  the  place  the  house  will 
be  our  only  chance." 

"  When  you  've  fought  as  much  wi'  Keds  as  I 
have,  Dick,  you'll  lam  that  delay,  even  for  five 
minutes,  counts  for  a  good  deal." 

"  Well,  there 's  somethin'  in  that.  It  minds  me 
what  one  o'  my  shipmates  who  had  bin  in  the  Lon- 
don fire  brigade  once  said.  *  Dick,'  said  he,  '  never 
putt  off  what  you  've  got  to  do.  Sometimes  I  Ve 
bin  at  a  fire  where  the  loss  of  only  two  minutes 
caused  the  destruction  of  a  store  worth  ten  thou- 
sand pound,  more  or  less.  We  all  but  saved  it  as 
it  was — so  near  were  we,  that  if  we  had  bin  one 
minute  sooner  I  do  believe  we'd  have  saved  it. 
But  when  we  was  makin'  for  that  fire  full  sail,  a 
deaf  old  applewoman  came  athwart  our  bows  an' 
got  such  a  fright  that  she  went  flop  down  right  in 
front  of  us.  To  steer  clear  of  her  we  'd  got  to  sheer 
off  so  that  we  all  but  ran  into  a  big  van,  and,  what 
wi*  our  lights  an'  the  yellin',  the  horses  o'  the  van 
took  fright  and  backed  into  us  as  we  flew  past,  so 
that  we  a'most  went  down  by  the  starn.  One  way 
or  another  we  lost  two  minutes,  as  I  've  said,  an'  the 
owners  o'  that  store  lost  about  ten  thousand  pounds 
— more  or  less.' " 

"  That  was  a  big  pile,  Dick,"  observed  the  ranch- 
man, as  th'^y  turned  from  the  gate  towards  the  house, 
"  not  easy  to  replace." 

"True — my  shipmate  never  seemed  to  be  quite 


:'l'rii 


■    1 


i:M 


204 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


■  ; 

\u' 


l<  I 


m- 


t ;; 


\l- 


n 


I 


sure  whether  it  was  more  or  less  that  was  lost,  but 
he  thought  the  Insurance  offices  must  have  found 
it  out  by  that  time.  It 's  a  pity  there 's  only  three 
of  us,  for  that  will  leave  one  side  o*  the  house 
undefended." 

"All  right,  Dick*  you  don't  trouble  your  head 
about  that,  for  Buttercup  fights  like  a  black  tiger. 
She 's  a'most  as  good  as  a  man — only  she  can't  man- 
age to  aim,  so  it's  no  ..se  givin'  her  a  rifle.  She's 
game  enough  to  fire  it,  but  the  more  she  tries  to  hit 
the  more  she 's  sure  to  miss.  However,  she 's  got  t*, 
way  of  her  own  that  sarves  well  enough  to  defend 
her  side  o'  the  house.  She  always  takes  charge  o' 
the  front.  My  Mary  can't  fight,  but  she 's  a  heroine 
at  loadin' — an'  that 's  somethin'  when  you  're  hard 
pressed  !  Come,  now,  I  '11  show  ye  the  shootin'  irons 
an'  our  plan  of  campaign." 

Koaring  Bull  led  the  way  back  to  the  room,  or 
central  hall,  where  they  had  supped,  and  here  they 
found  that  the  d(5bris  of  their  feast  had  already  been 
cleared  away,  and  that  arms  of  various  kinds,  with 
'1  amunition,  covered  the  board. 

"  Hospitable  alike  to  friend  and  foe,"  said  Jackson 
gaily.  "  Here,  you  see,  Mary  has  spread  supper  for 
theEeds!" 

Darvall  made  no  response  to  this  pleasantry,  for 
he  observed  that  poor  JVl.ary's  pretty  face  was  very 
pale,  and  that  it  wore  an  expression  of  mingled 
sadness  and  anxiety. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


205 


"  You  won't  be  exposed  to  danger,  I  hope,"  said 
Dick,  in  a  low  earnest  tone,  while  Jackson  was 
loudly  discussing  with  Crux  the  merits  of  one  of  the 
repeating  rifles — of  which  there  were  half-a-dozen 
on  the  table. 

"  Oh  no !  It  is  not  that,"  returned  the  girl  sadly. 
"  I  am  troubled  to  think  that,  however  the  fight  goes, 
some  souls,  perhaps  many,  will  be  sent  to  their 
account  unprepared.  For  myself,  I  shall  be  safe 
enough  as  long  as  we  are  able  to  hold  the  house, 
and  it  may  be  that  God  will  send  us  help  before 
long." 

"You  may  be  quite  sure,"  returned  Dick,  with 
suppressed  emotion, "  that  no  Eedskin  shall  cross  this 
threshold  as  long  as  we  three  men  have  a  spark  o' 
life  left." 

A  sweet  though  pitiful  smile  lighted  up  Mary's 
pale  face  for  a  moment,  as  she  replied  that  she  was 
quite  sure  of  that,  in  a  tone  which  caused  Darvall's 
heart  to  expand,  so  that  his  ribs  seemed  unable  to 
contain  it,  while  he  experienced  a  sensation  of  being 
stronger  than  Samson  and  bigger  than  Goliath ! 

"  And  I  suppose,"  continued  Dick,  "  that  the 
troops  won't  be  long  of  coming.  Is  the  man — what 's 
his  name,  Humpy  Ben — trustworthy  ? " 

"  Trustworthy ! "  exclaimed  the  maiden,  with  a 
flush  of  enthusiasm ;  "  there  is  not  a  more  trust- 
worthy man  on  this  side  of  the  Eocky  mountains, 
or  the  other  side  either,  I  am  quite  sure." 


m 


H ' 


i..,„t 


:!;:! 


I 


I    I- 


3 


i 


206 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


Poor  Darvall's  heart  seemed  suddenly  to  find 
plenty  of  room  within  the  ribs  at  that  moment,  and 
his  truthful  visage  must  have  become  something  of 
an  index  to  his  state  of  mind,  for,  to  his  surprise, 
Mary  laughed 

"It  seems  to  me  so  funny,"  she  continued,  "to 
hear  any  one  ask  if  Hunky — not  Humpy — Ben  is 
to  be  trusted." 

"  Is  he,  then,  such  a  splendid  young  fellow  1 " 
asked  the  seaman,  with  just  the  slightest  touch  of 
bitterness  in  his  tone,  for  he  felt  as  if  a  rock  some- 
thing like  Gibraltar  had  been  laid  on  his  heart. 

"  Well,  he 's  not  exactly  young,"  answered  Mary, 
with  a  peculiar  expression  that  made  her  questioner 
feol  still  more  uncomfortable,  "yet  he  is  scarcely 
middle-aged,  but  he  certainly  is  the  most  splendid 
fellow  on  the  frontier ;  and  he  saved  my  life  once." 

"  Indeed !  how  was  that  ? " 

"Well,  it  was  this  way.  I  had  been  paying  a 
short  visit  to  his  wife,  who  lives  on  the  other  side 
of  the " 

"  Come  along,  Darvall,"  cried  Koaring  Bull  at 
that  moment.  "  The  moon 's  about  down,  an'  we  '11 
have  to  take  our  stations.  We  shall  defend  the 
outworks  first,  to  check  them  a  bit  and  put  off  some 
time,  then  scurry  into  the  house  and  be  ready  for 
them  when  they  try  to  clear  the  fence.  Follov:  me. 
Out  wi'  the  lights,  girls,  and  away  to  your  posts." 

"I'll  hear  the  end  of  your  story  another  time, 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


207 


Miss  Mary,"  said  Dick,  looking  over  his  shoulder 
and  following  his  host  and  Crux  to  the  outer  door. 

The  seaman  was  conscious  of  a  faint  suspicion 
that  Mary  was  wrestling  with  another  laugh  as  he 
went  off  to  defend  the  outworks,  but  he  also,  happily, 
felt  that  the  Eock  of  Gibraltar  had  been  removed 
from  his  lieart ! 


iM 


I 


208 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


h '  ■  ' 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

DEFENCE  OF  THE  RANCH  OF  ROARING  BULL. 

Every  light  and  every  spark  of  fire  had  been 
extinguislied  in  the  ranch  of  Eoaring  Bull  when  its 
defenders  issued  from  its  doorway.  They  were 
armed  to  the  teeth,  and  glided  across  the  yard  to 
the  fence  or  stockade  that  enclosed  the  buildings, 
leaving  the  door  slightly  open  so  as  to  be  ready  for 
speedy  retreat. 

It  had  been  arranged  that,  as  there  was  a  large  open 
field  without  bush  or  tree  in  the  rear  of  the  ranch, 
they  should  leave  that  side  undefended  at  first. 

"They'll  never  come  into  the  open  as  long  as 
they  can  crawl  up  through  the  bush,"  Jackson  had 
said,  while  making  his  final  dispositions.  "  They  're 
a'most  sure  to  come  up  in  front,  thinkin'  we  're  all 
a-bed.  Now,  mind — don't  stand  still,  boys,  but 
walk  along  as  ye  fire,  to  give  'em  the  notion  there 's 
more  of  us.  An'  don't  fire  at  nothin'.  They  'd  think 
we  was  in  a  funk.  An'  when  you  hear  me  whistle 
get  into  the  house  as  quick  as  a  cotton-tail  rabbit 
an'  as  sly  as  a  snake." 

After  the  moon  went  down,  everything  in  and 


; 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


209 


around  the  ranch  was  as  silent  as  the  grave,  save 
now  and  then  the  stamp  of  a  hoof  on  the  floor  of  a 
shed,  where  a  number  of  horses  stood  saddled  and 
bridled  ready  to  mount  at  a  moment's  notice ;  for 
Jackson  had  made  up  his  mind,  if  it  came  to  the 
worst,  to  mount  and  make  a  bold  dash  with  all  his 
household  through  the  midst  of  his  foes,  trusting  to 
taking  them  by  surprise  and  to  his  knowledge  of 
the  country  for  success. 

For  a  long  time,  probably  two  hours,  the  three 
men  stood  at  their  posts  motionless  and  silent; 
still  there  was  no  sign,  either  by  sight  or  sound, 
of  an  enemy.  The  outline  of  the  dark  woods  was 
barely  visible  against  the  black  sky  in  front  of  each 
solitary  watcher,  and  no  moving  thing  could  be 
distinguished  in  the  open  field  behind  either  by 
Crux  or  Darvall,  to  each  of  whom  the  field  was 
visible.     Jackson  guarded  the  front. 

To  Dick,  unaccustomed  as  he  was  to  such  war- 
fare, the  situation  was  very  trying,  and  might  have 
told  on  his  nerves  severely  if  he  had  not  been  a 
man  of  iron  mould ;  as  it  was,  he  had  no  nerves  to 
speak  of !  But  he  was  a  man  of  lively  imagination. 
More  than  fifty  times  within  those  two  hours  did 
he  see  a  black  form  moving  in  the  darkness  that 
lay  between  him  and  the  wood,  and  more  than  fifty 
times  was  his  Winchester  rifle  raised  to  his  shoulder ; 
but  as  often  did  the  caution  "  don't  fire  at  nothin' " 
rise  to  his  memory. 

0 


iW: 


■■n 


210 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  llESCUE  :   A  TALE 


j^  i 


s 

i 


'-II 


II 


The  stockade  was  of  peculiar  construction,  because 
its  owner  and  maker  was  eccentric  and  a  mechanical 
genius.  Not  only  were  the  pickets  of  which  it  was 
composed  very  strong  and  planted  with  just  space 
between  to  permit  of  firing,  but  there  was  a  planking 
of  strong  boards,  waist  high,  all  round  the  bottom 
inside,  which  afforded  some  protection  to  defenders 
by  concealing  them  when  they  stooped  and  changed 
position. 

"While  matters  were  in  this  state  outside,  Mary 
Jackson  and  Buttercup  were  standing  at  an  upper 
window  just  opposite  the  front  gate,  the  latter  with 
a  huge  bell-mouthed  blunderbuss  of  the  last  century, 
loaded  with  buckshot  in  her  hands.  Mary  stood 
beside  her  sable  domestic  ready  to  direct  her  not 
as  to  how,  but  where  and  when,  to  use  the  ancient 
weapon. 

"  You  must  be  very  careful.  Buttercup,"  said  Mary 
in  a  low  voice,  "  not  to  fire  till  I  tell  you,  and  to 
point  only  ivhere  I  tell  you,  else  you  '11  shoot  father. 
And  do  keep  your  finger  off  the  trigger !  By-the- 
way,  have  you  cocked  it  ? " 

"  0  missy,  I  forgit  dat,"  answered  the  damsel 
with  a  self-condemned  look,  as  she  corrected  the  error. 
"  But,  don'  you  fear,  Missy  Mary.  I 's  use'  to  dis  yar 
blunn'erbus.  Last  time  I  fire  'im  was  at  a  raven. 
Down  goed  de  raven,  blow'd  to  atims,  an'  down  goed 
me  too — cause  de  drefful  t'ing  kicks  like  a  Texas  mule. 
But  bress  you,  I  don'  mind  dat.     I 's  used  to  it ! " 


1 1 
}, 


OJf'  TIIK  SEA  AND  TIIK  ROCKIES. 


211 


Buttercup  gave  a  little  sniff  of  grave  scoru  with 
her  flat  nose,  as  though  to  intimate  that  the  or- 
dinary ills  of  life  were  beneath  her  notice. 

We  have  said  that  all  fires  had  been  extinguished, 
but  this  is  not  strictly  correct,  for  in  the  room 
where  the  two  maidens  watched  there  was  an  iron 
stove  so  enclosed  that  the  fire  inside  did  not  show,  and 
as  it  was  fed  with  charcoal  there  were  neither  flames 
nor  sparks  to  betray  its  presence.  On  this  there 
stood  a  large  cast-iron  pot  full  of  water,  the  bubbling 
of  which  was  the  only  sound  that  broke  the  pro- 
found stillness  of  the  night,  while  the  watchers 
scarcely  breathed,  so  intently  did  they  listen. 

At  last  the  patient  and  self-restraining  Dick  saw 
a  dark  object  moving  towards  his  side  of  the 
stockade,  which  he  felt  was  much  too  real  to  be 
classed  with  the  creatures  of  his  imagination  which 
had  previously  given  him  so  much  trouble.  Without 
a  moment's  hesitation  the  rifle  flew  to  his  shoulder, 
and  the  prolonged  silence  was  broken  by  the  sharp 
report,  while  an  involuntary  half-suppressed  cry 
proved  that  he  had  not  missed  his  mark.  The  dark 
object  hastily  retreated.  A  neighbouring  cliff  echoed 
the  sounds,  and  two  shots  from  his  comrades  told 
the  sailor  that  they  also  were  on  the  alert. 

Instantly  the  night  was  rendered  hideous  by  a 
series  of  wild  yells  and  whoops,  while,  for  a  moment, 
the  darkness  gave  place  to  a  glare  of  light  as  a 
hundred  rifles  vomited  their  deadly  contents,  and 


■  1  h 


!i 


I 


li 


In, 


212 


CIIAKLIK  TO  TIIK  KESCUK  :   A  TALK 


the  sound  of  many  rushing  feet  was  heard  upon  the 
open  sward  in  front  of  tlio  ranch. 

The  three  male  defenders  had  ducked  their  heads 
below  the  protecting  breast-work  when  the  volley 
v.'as  fired,  and  then,  discarding  all  idea  of  further 
care,  they  skipped  along  their  respective  lines, 
yelling  and  firing  the  repeaters  so  rapidly,  that,  to 
any  one  ignorant  of  the  true  state  of  things,  it  must 
have  seemed  as  if  the  place  were  defended  by  a 
legion  of  demons.  To  add  to  the  hullabaloo  Butter- 
cup's blunderbuss  poured  forth  its  contents  upon 
a  group  of  red  warriors  who  were  rushing  towards 
the  front  gate,  with  such  a  cannon-like  sound  and 
such  wonderful  effect,  that  the  rush  was  turned 
into  a  sudden  and  limping  retreat.  The  effect, 
indeed,  was  more  severe  even  than  Buttercup  had 
intended,  for  a  stray  buckshot  had  actually  taken 
a  direction  which  had  been  feared,  and  grazed  her 
master's  left  arm!  Happily  the  wound  was  very 
slight,  and,  to  do  the  poor  damsel  justice,  she  could 
not  see  that  her  master  was  jumping  from  one 
place  to  another  like  a  caged  lion.  Like  the  same 
animal,  however,  he  gave  her  to  understand  what 
she  had  done,  by  shouting  in  a  thunderous  bass  roar 
that  fully  justified  his  sobriquet — 

"Mind  your  eye,  Buttercup!  Not  so  low  next 
time!" 

The  immediate  result  of  this  vigorous  defence 
was  to  make  the  Indians  draw  off  and  retire  to  the 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


213 


woods — presumably  for  consultation.  By  previous 
arrangement  the  negro  girl  issued  from  the  house 
with  three  fresh  repeaters  in  her  v  ma,  ran  round  to 
the  combatants  with  them  and  returned  with  their 
almost  empty  villes.  These  she  and  Mary  proceeded 
to  reload  in  the  liall,  and  then  returned  to  their  post 
at  the  upper  front  window. 

The  morning  was  by  this  time  pretty  well  ad- 
vanced, and  Jackson  felt  a  little  uncertain  as  to 
what  he  should  now  do.  It  was  still  rather  dark ; 
but  in  a  very  short  time,  he  knew,  dawn  would 
spread  over  the  east,  when  it  would,  of  course,  be 
quite  impossible  to  defend  the  walls  of  the  little 
fort  without  revealing  the  small  number  of  its 
defenders.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the\  should 
retire  at  once  the  enemy  might  find  .  lodge- 
ment within,  among  the  outbuildings,  before  there 
was  light  enough  to  prevent  them  by  picking  off 
the  leaders ;  in  which  case  the  assailants  would  be 
able  to  apply  fire  to  the  wooden  walls  of  the  house 
without  much  risk. 

"  If  they  manage  to  pile  up  enough  o'  brush  to 
clap  a  light  to,"  he  grumbled  to  himself  in  an  under 
tone,  "  it 't  all  up  wi'  us." 

The  thought  had  barely  passed  through  his  brain, 
when  a  leaden  messenger,  intended  to  pass  through 
it,  carried  his  cap  off  his  head,  and  the  fire  that 
had  discharged  it  almost  blinded  him.  Bigfoot,  the 
chief  of  the  savages,  had  wriggled  himself,  snake- 


r 


^ 


i    '.I 


U    ( 


uHi 


214 


CHAELIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  I   A  TALE 


I! 
If 


i..-,. 


Jl 


fashion,  up  to  the  stockade  unseen,  and  while 
Koar'ng  Bull  was  meditating  what  was  best  to  be 
done,  he  had  nearly  succeeded  in  rendering  him 
unable  to  do  anything  at  all. 

The  shot  was  the  signal  for  another  onslaught. 
Once  more  the  woods  rang  with  fiendish  yells  and 
rattling  volleys.  Bigfoot,  with  the  agility  and 
strength  of  a  gorilla,  leaped  up  and  over  the  stockade 
and  sprung  down  into  Jackson's  arms,  while  Darvall 
and  Crux  resumed  their  almost  ubiquitous  process 
of  defence,  and  Buttercup's  weapon  again  thundered 
forth  its  defiance. 

This  time  the  fight  was  more  protracted.  Big- 
foot's  career  was  indeed  stopped  for  the  time  being, 
for  Jackson  not  only  crushed  the  life  almost  out 
of  him  by  an  unloving  embrace,  but  dealt  him  a 
prize-fighter's  blow  which  effectually  stretched  him 
on  the  ground.  Not  a  moment  too  soon,  however, 
for  the  white  man  had  barely  got  rid  of  the  red 
one,  when  another  savage  managed  to  scale  the  wall. 
A  blow  from  the  butt  of  Jackson's  rifle  dropped  him, 
and  then  the  victor  fired  so  rapidly,  and  with  such 
effect,  that  a  second  time  the  Beds  were  repulsed. 

Jackson  did  no*  again  indulge  in  meditation, 
but  blew  a  shrill  blast  on  a  dog-whistle — a  precon- 
certed signal — ^on  hearing  which  his  two  comrades 
made  for  the  house  door  at  full  speed. 

Only  one  other  of  the  Indians,  besides  the  two 
already  mentioned,  had  succeeded  in  getting  ovar  the 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


215 


stockade.  This  man  was  creeping  up  to  the  open 
door  of  the  house,  and,  tomahawk  in  hand,  had  al- 
most reached  it  when  Dick  Darvall  came  tearing 
round  the  corner. 

"  Hallo !  Crux,"  cried  Dick,  "  that  you  ? " 

The  fact  that  he  received  no  reply  was  sufficient 
for  Dick,  who  was  too  close  to  do  more  than  drive 
the  point  oi  his  rifle  against  the  chest  of  the  In- 
dian, who  went  down  as  if  he  had  been  shot,  while 
Dick  sprang  in  and  held  open  the  door.  A  word 
from  Jackson  and  Crux  as  they  ran  forward  sufficed. 
They  passed  in  and  the  massive  door  was  shut  and 
barred,  while  an  instant  later  at  least  half-a-dozen 
savages  ran  up  against  it  and  began  to  thunder  on  it 
with  their  rifle-butts  and  tomahawks. 

"  To  your  windows ! "  shouted  Jackson,  as  he 
sprang  up  the  wooden  stair-case,  three  steps  at  a 
time.     "  Fresh  rifles  here,  Mary ! " 

"  Yes,  father,"  came  in  a  silvery  and  most  unwar- 
like  voice  from  the  hall  below. 

Another  moment  and  three  shots  rang  from  the 
three  sides  of  the  house,  and  of  the  three  Indians 
who  were  at  the  moment  in  the  act  of  clambering 
over  the  stockade,  one  fell  inside  and  two  out. 
Happily,  daylight  soon  began  to  make  objects  dis- 
tinctly visible,  and  the  Indians  were  well  aware  that 
it  would  now  be  almost  certain  death  to  any  one 
who  should  attempt  to  climb  over. 

It  is  well  known  that,  as  a  rule,  savages  do  not 


I 


'■i\ 


Ih 


I!;- 


M 


"Tl 
•■  1 
ri 

;  ■      ii 


( 


m 


216 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


throw  away  their  lives  recklessly.  The  moment  it 
became  evident  that  darkness  would  no  longer  serve 
them,  those  who  were  in  the  open  retired  to  the 
woods,  and  potted  at  the  windows  of  the  ranch,  but, 
as  the  openings  from  which  the  besieged  fired  were 
mere  loop-holes  made  for  the  purpose  of  defence,  they 
had  little  hope  of  hitting  them  at  long  range  except 
by  chance.  Those  of  the  besiegers  who  happened  to 
be  near  the  stockade  took  shelter  behind  the  breast- 
work, and  awaited  further  orders  from  their  chief 
— ignorant  of  the  fact  that  he  had  already  fallen. 

From  the  loop-holes  of  the  room  which  Jackson 
had  selected  to  defend,  the  shed  with  the  saddled 
horses  was  visible,  so  that  no  one  could  reach  it 
wit  lout  coming  under  the  fire  of  his  deadly  weapon. 
There  was  also  a  window  in  this  room  opening  upon 
the  back  of  the  house  and  commanding  the  field 
which  we  have  before  mentioned  as  being  unde- 
fended while  the  battle  was  waged  outside.  By 
casting  a  glance  now  and  then  through  this  window 
he  could  see  any  foe  who  might  show  himself  in 
that  direction.  The  only  part  of  the  fort  that  seemed 
exposed  to  great  danger  now  was  the  front  door, 
where  the  half-dozen  savages,  with  a  few  others  who 
had  joined  them,  were  still  battering  away  at  the 
impregnable  door. 

Dick,  who  held  the  garret  above,  could  not  see  the 
door,  of  course,  nor  could  he  by  any  manoiuvre 
manage  to  bring  his  rifle  to  bear  on  it  from  liis 


at  it 
serve 
I  the 
but, 
were 
they 
ccept 
sd  to 
east- 
chief 

Q. 

kson 
idled 
ih  it 
ipon. 
upon 
iield 
inde- 

By 

idow 
If  ill 
smed 
door, 
;  who 
t  the 

ie  the 
3uvre 
1  his 


i 

I 

i 
f 
f 

lt.> 

'W 

1 

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j  w 


![■ 


\r 


m- 


i 


III 


NOW,  IJUITEUCUP,  GIVE  11'  'KM     llol,"     I'liKc  217, 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


217 


loop-hole,  and  he  dared  not  leave  his  post  lest  more 
Indians  should  manage  to  scale  the  front  stockade. 

Buttercup,  in  the  room  below,  had  indeed  a  bet- 
ter chance  at  her  window,  but  she  was  too  inexpert 
in  warfare  to  point  tiie  blunderbuss  straight  down 
and  fire  with  effect,  especially  knowing,  as  she  did, 
that  the  sight  of  her  arm  in  the  act  would  be  the 
signal  for  a  prompt  fusillade.  But  the  girl  was  not 
apparently  much  concerned  about  that  or  anything 
else.  The  truth  is  that  she  possessed  in  an  eminent 
and  enviable  degree  the  spirit  of  entire  trust  in  a 
leader.  She  was  under  orders,  and  awaited  the 
word  of  command  with  perfect  equanimity !  She 
even  smiled  slightly — if  such  a  mouth  could  be  said 
to  do  anything  slightly — when  Mary  left  her  to  take 
fresh  rifles  to  the  defenders  overhead. 

At  last  the  command  came  from  the  upper  re- 
gions, in  tones  that  caused  the  very  savages  to 
pause  a  moment  and  look  at  each  other  in  surprise. 
They  did  not  pause  long,  however ! 

"  Now,  Buttercup,"  thundered  Koaring  Bull, "  give 
it  'em— -hot ! " 

At  the  word  the  girl  calmly  laid  aside  her  weapon, 
lifted  the  big  iron  pot  with  familiar  and  business- 
like facility,  and  emptied  it  over  the  window. 

The  result  is  more  easily  imagined  than  described. 
A  yell  that  must  have  been  heard  miles  off  was  the 
prelude  to  a  stampede  of  the  most  lively  nature. 
It  was  intensified,  if  possible,  by  the  further  action 


I'll 


4' 


'  "11 
■  ii 


I 


^ 


218 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


of  the  negress,  who,  seizing  the  blunderbuss,  pointed 
it  at  the  flying  crowd,  and,  shutting  both  eyes,  fired ! 
Not  a  buckshot  took  effect  on  the  savages,  for  But- 
tercup, if  we  may  say  so,  aimed  too  low,  but  the 
effect  was  more  stupendous  than  if  the  aim  had 
been  good,  for  the  heavy  charge  drove  up  an  inde- 
scribable amount  of  peppery  dust  and  small  stones 
into  the  rear  of  the  flying  foe,  causing  another  yell 
which  was  not  an  echo  but  a  magnified  reverberation 
of  the  first.  Thus  Buttercup  had  the  satisfaction  of 
utterly  routing  her  foes  without  killing  a  single  man ! 

Daylight  had  fairly  set  in  by  that  time,  and  the 
few  savages  who  had  not  succeeded  in  vaulting  the 
stockade  had  concealed  themselves  behind  the 
various  outhouses. 

The  proprietor  of  tho  ranch  began  now  to  have 
some  hope  of  keeping  the  Indians  at  bay  until  the 
troops  should  succour  him.  He  even  left  his  post 
and  called  his  friends  to  a  council  of  war,  when  a 
wild  cheer  was  heard  in  the  woods.  It  was  followed 
by  the  sound  of  firing.  No  sooner  was  this  heard 
than  the  savages  concealed  outside  of  the  breastwork 
rose  as  one  man  and  ran  for  the  woods. 

"  It 's  the  troops  ! "  exclaimed  Dick  hopefully. 

"  Troopers  never  cheer  like  that,"  returned  Jackson 
with  an  anxious  look.  "  It 's  more  like  my  poor 
cow-boys,  and,  if  so,  they  will  have  no  chance  wi' 
such  a  crowd  o'  Eeds.  We  must  ride  to  help  them, 
an'    you'll    have    to    ride   with    us,   Mary.      We 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


219 


daren't  leave  you  behind,  lass,  wi'  them  varmints 
skulkin*  around." 

"  I  'm  ready,  father,"  said  Mary  with  a  decided 
look,  though  it  was  evident,  from  the  pallor  of  her 
cheek,  that  she  was  ill  at  ease. 

"Now,  look  here,  Dick,"  said  Jackson,  quickly, 
"you  will  go  down  and  open  the  front  gate.  I'll 
go  with  'ee  wi'  my  repeater  to  keep  an  eye  on  the 
hidden  reptiles,  so  that  if  one  of  them  shows  so 
much  as  the  tip  of  his  ugly  nose  he'll  have  cause  to 
remember  it.  You  will  go  to  my  loophole.  Crux,  an* 
keep  your  eyes  open  all  round — specially  on  the 
horses.  When  the  gate  is  open  I'll  shout,  and 
you'll  run  down  to  the  shed  wi'  the  women. — You 
understand  ? "     Crux  nodded. 

Acting  on  this  plan  Dick  ran  to  the  gate ;  Jackson 
followed,  rifle  in  hand,  and,  having  reached  the 
middle  of  the  fort,  he  faced  round;  only  just  in 
time  to  see  a  gun  barrel  raised  from  behind  a  shed. 
Before  he  could  raise  his  own  weapon  a  shot  was 
heard  and  the  gun-barrel  disappeared,  while  the 
Indian  who  raised  it  fell  wounded  on  the  ground. 

"  Well  done,  Crux ! "  he  exclaimed,  at  the  same 
moment  firing  his  own  rifle  at  a  head  which  was 
peeping  round  a  corner.  The  head  vanished  in- 
stantly and  Darvall  rejoined  him,  having  thrown 
the  gate  wide  open. 

"  Come  round  wi'  me  an'  drive  the  reptiles  out," 
cried  Jackson.    At  tlie  same  time  he  uttered  a  roar 


I! 


n 


220 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


v-|  I  a 


nil  J 


that  a  bull  might  have  envied,  and  they  both  rushed 
round  to  the  back  of  the  outhouses  where  three 
Indians  were  found  skulking. 

At  the  sudden  and  unexpected  onslaught,  they 
fired  an  ineffectual  volley  and  fled  wildly  through 
the  now  open  gate,  followed  by  several  shots  from 
both  pursuers,  whose  aim,  however,  was  no  better 
than  their  own  had  been. 

Meanwhile  Crux  and  the  girls,  having  reached  the 
shed  according  to  orders,  mounted  their  respective 
steeds  and  awaited  their  comrades.  They  had  not 
long  to  wait.  Jackson  and  Dick  came  round  the 
corner  of  the  shed  at  full  speed,  and,  without  a 
word,  leaped  simultaneously  into  their  saddles. 

"  Keep  close  to  me,  girls, — close  up  ! "  was  all 
that  Jackson  said  as  he  dashed  spurs  into  his  horse, 
and,  sweeping  across  the  yard  and  through  the  gate, 
made  straight  for  that  part  of  the  woods  where 
yells,  shouts,  and  firing  told  that  a  battle  was 
raging  furiously. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ItOCKIES. 


221 


CirAPTER  XIX. 

THE  RESCUE  AND  ITS  CONSEQUEN'CES. 

The  ground  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  ranch 
favoured  the  operations  of  an  attacking  party,  for 
it  was  so  irregular  and  so  cumbered  with  knolls  and 
clumps  of  trees  that  the  defenders  of  the  post 
scarce  dared  to  make  a  sally,  lest  their  retreat 
should  be  cut  off  by  a  detached  party  of  assailants. 

Hence  Jackson  would  never  have  dreamed  of 
quitting  his  house,  or  ceasing  to  act  on  the  defen- 
sive, had  he  not  been  under  the  natural  impression 
that  it  was  his  own  returning  cow-boys  who  had 
been  attacked  and  out-numbered  by  the  Indians. 
Great,  therefore,  was  h/.  surprise  when,  on  rounding 
a  bluff  and  coming  into  view  of  the  battle-field,  the 
party  engaged  with  the  Indians,  though  evidently 
white  men,  were  neither  his  own  men  nor  those  of 
the  U.  S.  troops. 

He  had  just  made  the  discovery,  when  a  band  of 
about  fifty  warriors  burst  from  the  woods  and 
rushed  upon  him. 

"  Back  to  back,  boys  !  girls,  keep  close  ! "  shouted 
Jackson,  as  he  fired  two  shots  and  dropped  two 


1 1 


222 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


hi-'- 


1 


if:  H 


Indians.  He  pulled  at  a  third,  but  there  was  no 
answering  report,  for  the  magazine  of  his  repeater 
was  empty. 

Crux  and  Darvall  turned  their  backs  towards 
him  and  thus  formed  a  sort  of  triangle,  in  the  midst 
of  which  were  the  two  girls.  But  this  arrangement, 
which  might  have  enabled  them  to  hold  out  for 
some  time,  was  rendered  almost  abortive  by  the 
ammunition  having  been  exhausted. 

"  So  much  for  bein'  in  too  great  a  hurry  !  "  growled 
Jackson  between  his  clenched  teeth,  as  he  clubbed 
his  rifle  and  made  a  savage  blow  at  the  Indian  who 
first  came  close  to  him.  It  was  evident  that  the 
Indians  were  afraid  to  fire  lest  they  should  wound 
or  kill  the  women;  or,  perhaps,  understanding 
how  matters  stood,  they  wished  to  capture  the  white 
men  alive,  for,  instead  of  firing  at  them,  they  circled 
swiftly  round,  endeavouring  to  distract  their  atten- 
tion so  as  to  rush  in  on  them. 

Bigfoot,  who  had  recovered  from  his  blow  and 
escaped  from  the  ranch,  made  a  sudden  dash  at 
Dick  when  he  thought  him  off  his  guard,  but  Dick 
was  not  easily  caught  off  his  guard  in  a  fight. 
While  in  the  act  of  making  a  furious  demonstration 
at  an  Indian  in  front,  which  kept  that  savage  off, 
he  gave  Bigfoot  a  "  back-handed  wipe,"  as  he  called 
it,  which  tumbled  the  chief  completely  off  his  horse. 

Just  then  a  turn  of  affairs  in  favour  of  the  whites 
was  taking  place  on  the  battle-field  beyond.     The 


i'[ 


OP  THE  SKA  AND  TMK  ROCKIES. 


223 


party  there  had  attacked  the  savages  with  such 
fury  as  to  scatter  them  right  and  left,  and  they 
were  now  riding  down  at  racing  speed  on  the  com- 
batants, whose  fortunes  we  have  followed  thus  far. 

Two  men  rode  well  in  advance  of  the  party  with 
a  revolver  in  each  hand. 

"Why,   it's   Charlie   Brooke!    Hurrah!"   yelled 
Darvall  with  delight. 

"  An'  Buck  Tom ! "  roared  Jackson  in  amaze- 
ment. 

So  sudden  was  the  onset  that  the  Indians  were 
for  a  moment  paralysed,  and  the  two  horsemen,  fir- 
ing right  and  left  as  they  rode  up,  dashed  straight 
into  the  very  midst  of  the  savages.  In  a  moment 
they  were  alongside  of  their  friends,  while  the  rest  of 
the  outlaw  band  were  already  engaged  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  crowd. 

The  very  danger  of  the  white  men  constituted  to 
some  extent  their  safety;  for  they  were  so  out- 
numbered and  surrounded  that  the  Indians  seemed 
afraid  to  fire  lest  they  should  shoot  each  other.  To 
add  to  the  confusion,  another  party  of  whites 
suddenly  appeared  on  the  scene  and  attacked  the 
"Eeds"  with  a  wild  cheer.  This  was  Jackson's 
little  band  of  cow-boys.  They  numbered  only  eight ; 
but  the  suddenness  of  their  appearance  tended 
further  to  distract  the  savages. 

While  the  noise  was  at  its  height  a  sound,  or 
rather  sensation,  of  many  feet  beating  the  earth  was 


II 


nil 


i       ( 


li 


i! 


224 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALU 


''  ( 


Hi 


felt.  Next  moment  a  compact  line  was  seen  to 
wheel  round  the  bluff  where  the  fight  was  going  on, 
and  a  stentorian  "  Charge ! "  was  uttered,  as  the 
United  States  cavalry,  preceded  by  Hunky  Ben, 
bore  down  with  irresistible  impetuosity  on  the  foe. 

But  the  Indians  die'  '^t  await  this  onset.  They 
turned  and  fled,  scat!  aig  as  they  went,  and  the 
fight  was  quickly  turned  into  a  total  rout  and  hot 
pursuit,  in  which  troopers,  outlaws,  travellers,  ranch- 
men, scouts,  and  cow-boys  joined.  The  cavalry, 
however,  had  ridden  far  and  fast,  so  that  the  wiry 
little  mustangs  of  the  plains  soon  left  them  behind, 
and  the  bugle  ere  long  recalled  them  all. 

It  was  found  on  the  assembling  of  the  forces  that 
not  one  of  the  outlaws  had  returned.  Whether 
they  were  bent  on  v  ^aking  their  vengeance  still 
more  fully  on  theij  3,  or  had  good  reason  for 
wishing  to  avoid  a  meeting  with  the  troops,  w«is 
uncertain ;  but  it  was  shrewdly  suspected  that  the 
latter  was  the  true  reason. 

"But  you  led  the  charge  with  Buck  Tom,  sir," 
said  Jackson  to  Charlie,  in  considerable  surprise, 
"though  how  you  came  to  be  in  his  companv  is 
more  than  I  can  understand." 

"  Here 's  somebody  that  can  explain,  may-be," 
said  one  of  the  cow-boys,  leading  forward  a  wounded 
man  whose  face  was  covered  with  blood,  while  he 
limped  as  if  hurt  in  the  legs.  "  I  found  him  tryin' 
to  crawl  into  the  brush.     D  'ye  know  him,  boys  ? " 


OF  TlIK  SKA  AND  TIIK  KOCKIKS. 


225 


"Why,  it's  Jake  tlie  Flint!"  exclaimed  several 
voices  simultaneously;  while  more  than  one  hand 
was  laid  on  a  revolver,  as  if  to  inllict  summary 
punishment. 

"  I  claim  this  man  as  my  prisoner,"  said  the  com- 
mander of  the  troops,  with  a  stern  look  that  pre- 
vented any  attempt  at  violence. 

"  Ay,  you  've  got  me  at  last,"  said  the  outlaw,  with 
a  look  of  scorn.  "  You  've  bin  a  precious  long  time 
about  it  too." 

"  Secure  him,"  said  the  officer,  deigning  no  reply 
to  these  remarks. 

Two  troopers  dismounted,  and  with  a  piece  of 
rope  began  to  tie  the  outlaw's  hands  beliind  him. 

"  I  arrest  you  also,"  said  the  commander  to 
Charlie,  who  suddenly  found  a  trooper  on  each  side 
of  him.  These  took  him  lightly  by  each  arm,  while 
a  third  seized  his  bridle. 

"  Sir  ! "  exclaimed  our  hero,  while  the  blood  rushed 
to  his  forehead,  "  I  am  iiot  an  outlaw  ! " 

"  Excuse  me,"  returned  the  officer  politely,  "  but 
my  duty  is  plain.  There  are  a  good  many  gentle- 
manly outlaws  about  at  present.  You  are  found 
joining  in  fight  with  a  notorious  band.  Until  you 
can  clear  yourself  you  must  consider  yourself  my 
prisoner. — Disarm  and  bind  him." 

For  one  moment  Charlie  felt  an  almost  irresistible 
impulse  to  fell  the  men  who  held  him,  but  fortunately 
the  absurdity  of  his  position  forced  itself  on  him. 


II 


n 


"t  ! 


226 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :  A  TALE 


and  he  submitted,  well  knowing  that  his  innocence 
would  be  established  immediately. 

"  Is  not  this  man  one  of  your  band,  Jake  ? "  asked 
the  officer  quietly. 

"  Yes,  he  is,"  replied  tlie  man  with  a  malevolent 
grin.  "  He 's  not  long  joined.  This  is  his  first 
scrimmage  with  us." 

Charlie  was  so  thunderstruck  at  this  speech  that 
he  was  led  back  to  the  rauch  in  a  sort  of  dazed 
condition.  As  for  Dick  Darvall,  he  was  rendered 
speechless,  and  felt  disposed  to  regard  the  whole 
thing  as  a  sort  of  dream,  for  his  attempted  explana- 
tions were  totally  disregarded. 

Arrived  at  the  house,  Charlie  and  Jake  were 
locked  up  in  separate  rooms,  and  sentries  placed 
beneath  their  windows — this  in  addition  to  the 
security  of  hand-cuffs  and  roped  arms.  Then  break- 
fast was  prepared  for  the  entire  company,  and  those 
who  had  been  wounded  in  the  fight  were  attended 
to  by  Hunky  Ben — a  self-taught  sui'geon — with 
Mary  and  Buttercup  to  act  as  dressers. 

"I  say,  Jackson,"  observed  Darvall,  when  t-^e 
worthy  ranch-man  found  leisure  to  attend  to  him, 
"of  course  you  know  that  this  is  all  nonsense— an 
abominable  lie  about  my  friend  Brooke  being  an 
outlaw  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  do,  Dick,"  said  Jackson,  in  a  tone  of 
sympathy ;  "  an'  you  may  be  cock-sure  I  '11  do  what 
I  can  to  help  'im.     Bat  he'll  have  to  prove  himself 


) 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  llOCKIES. 


2*^7 


fiim, 

-an 

an 

ie  of 
^hat 
isolf 


a  true  man,  an'  there  are  some  mysteries  about  him 
that  it  puzzles  me  to  think  how  iie  '11  clear  'em  up." 

"  Mysteries  ? "  echoed  DicJ<:. 

"  Ay,  mysteries.  I've  had  some  talk  wi' HunLy 
Ben,  an'  he's  as  much  puzzled  as  myself,  if  not 
more." 

"Well,  then,  I'm  puzzled  more  than  either  of 
ye,"  returned  Dick,  "  for  my  friend  and  mate  is  as 
true  a  man — all  straight  an'  aboveboard — as  ever  I 
met  with  on  sea  or  land." 

"  That  may  be,  boy,  but  there  's  some  mystery 
about  him,  somehow." 

"  Can  ye  explain  what  the  mystery  is,  Jackson  ? " 

"  Well,  this  is  what  Hunky  Ben  says.  He  saw 
your  friend  go  olf  the  other  night  alone  to  Traitor's 
Trap,  following  in  the  footsteps  o'  that  notorious  out- 
law Buck  Tom.  Feelin'  sure  that  Buck  meant  to 
waylay  your  friend,  Hunk}  followed  him  up  and 
overshot  him  to  a  place  where  he  thought  it  likely 
the  outlaw  would  lay  in  wait.  Sure  enough,  when  he 
got  there  he  found  Buck  squattin'  behind  a  big  rock. 
So  he  waited  to  see  what  would  turn  up  and  be 
ready  to  rescue  your  friend.  An'  what  d'  ye  think 
did  turn  up  ? " 

"  Don'  kno  w,"  said  Dick,  with  a  look  of  solemn 
wonder. 

"  Why,  when  Buck  stepped  out  an'  bid  him  throw 
up  his  hands,  your  friend  merely  looked  at  Buck 
and  said  somethin'  that  Hunky  couldn't  hear,  an' 


It'll 


JH 


•t! 


\l- 


m 


rPf 


228 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALK 


11!  11 


^^1         i 


then  Buck  dropped  his  pistol,  an'  your  friend  got  off 
his  horse  and  they  shook  hands  and  went  off  as 
thick  as  thieves  tc^'^-ther.  An'  now,  as  you  've  seen 
an'  heard,  your  friend  turns  up  headin'  a  charge  of 
the  outlaws — an'  a  most  notable  cliarge  it  was — 
alongside  o'  Buck  Tom.  Jake  the  Flint  too  claims 
him  for  a  comrade.  Pretty  mysterious  all  that, 
ain't  it  ? " 

"  May  I  ask,"  said  Dick,  with  some  scorn  in  his 
tone,  "  who  is  this  Hunky  Ben,  that  his  word  should 
be  considered  as  good  as  a  bank-note  ? " 

"  He 's  the  greatest  scout  an'  the  best  an'  truest 
man  on  the  frontier,"  replied  Jackson. 

"  H'm !  so  Miss  Mary  seems  to  think  too." 

"  An'  Mary  thinks  right." 

"  An'  who  may  this  Jake  the  Flint  be  ? "  asked 
the  sailor. 

"  The  greatest  scoundrel,  cattle  and  horse  stealer, 
and  cut-throat  on  the  frontier." 

"So  then,"  rejoined  Dick,  with  some  bitterness, 
"  it  would  seem  that  my  friend  and  mate  is  taken  up 
for  an  outlaw  on  the  word  o'  the  two  greatest  men 
on  the  frontier ! " 

"It  looks  like  it,  Dick,  coupled,  of  course,  wi' 
your  friend's  own  actions.  But  never  you  fear, 
man.  There  must  be  a  mistake  o'  some  sort,  some- 
where, an'  it's  sure  to  come  out,  for  I'd  as  soon 
believe  my  Mary  to  be  an  outlaw  as  your  friend — 
though  I  never  set  eyes  on  him  before  the  other  day. 


11" 


:i   ■ 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  llOCKIKS. 


229 


The  fact  is,  Dick,  that  I've  learned  physiognomy 
since " 

"  Fizzi-what-umy  ? "  interrupted  Dick. 

"  Physiognomy — the  study  o'  faces — since  I  came 
to  live  on  the  frontier,  an'  I  'm  pretty  sure  to  know 
an  honest  man  from  a  rogue  as  soon  as  I  see  him 
an*  hear  him  speak — thougli  I  can't  always  prove 
myself  right," 

While  Dick  and  his  host  were  thus  conversing, 
and  the  soldiers  were  regaling  themselves  in  the  hall, 
the  commander  of  the  troops  and  Hunky  Ben  were 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation  with  Charlie 
Brooke,  who  gave  an  account  of  himself  that  quite 
cleared  up  the  mystery  of  his  meeting,  and  after- 
wards being  found  associated  with,  the  outlaws. 

"  It 's  a  queer  story,"  said  Hunky  Ben,  wlio, 
besides  being  what  his  friends  called  a  philosopher, 
was  prone  at  times  to  moralise.  "It's  a  queer 
story,  an'  shows  that  a  man  shouldn't  bounce  at  a 
conclusion  till  he's  larned  all  the  ins  an'  outs  of  a 
matter." 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Brooke,"  said  the  officer,  when 
Dick  had  finished  his  narration,  "  your  companion 
knows  all  this  and  can  corroborate  what  you  have 
said?" 

"  Not  all,"  replied  Charlie.  "  He  is  an  old  ship- 
mate whom  I  picked  up  on  arriving  at  New  York, 
and  only  knows  that  I  am  in  search  of  an  old 
school-fellow  who  has  given  way  to  dissipation  and 


r? 


< 

'  '^1  m 

I 


lit  ii 


in 


230 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


got  into  trouble  here.  Of  my  private  and  family 
affairs  he  knows  nothing." 

"Well,  you  have  cleared  yourself,  Mr.  Brooke," 
continued  the  Captain,  whose  name  was  Wilmot, 
"  but  I  *m  sorry  to  have  to  add  that  you  have  not 
cleared  the  character  of  your  friend  Leather,  whose 
name  has  for  a  considerable  time  been  associated 
with  the  notorious  band  led  by  your  old  school- 
fellow Piitson,  who  is  known  in  this  part  of  the 
country  as  Buck  Tom.  One  of  the  worst  of  this 
gang  of  highwaymen,  Jake  the  Flint,  has,  as  you 
know,  fallen  into  my  hands,  and  will  soon  receive 
his  deserts  as  a  black-hearted  murJevcr.  I  have 
recently  obtained  trustworthy  information  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  the  gang,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  guide  me  to  their 
den  in  Traitor's  Trap." 

"  Is  it  my  duty  to  do  this  ? "  asked  Charlie,  with 
a  troubled  look  at  the  officer. 

"  It  is  the  duty  of  every  honest  man  to  facilitate 
the  bringing  of  criminals  to  justice." 

"  But  I  have  strong  reason  for  believing  that  my 
friend  Leather,  although  reckless  and  dissipated, 
joined  these  men  unwillingly — was  forced  to  do  it 
in  fact — and  has  been  suffering  from  the  result  of  a 
severe  injury  ever  since  joining,  so  that  he  has  not 
assisted  them  at  all  in  their  nefarious  work.  Then, 
as  to  Ritson,  I  am  convinced  that  he  repents  of  his 
course  of  conduct.     Indeed,  I  know  that  his  men 


i( 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


231 


have  been  rebellious  of  late,  and  this  very  Jake  has 
been  aspiring  to  the  leadership  of  the  gang." 

"Your  feelings  regarding  these  men  may  be 
natural,"  returned  the  captain,  "  but  my  duty  is  to 
use  you  in  this  matter.  Believing  what  you  say  of 
yourself  I  will  treat  you  as  a  gentleman,  but  if  you 
decline  to  guide  me  to  the  nest  c^  this  gang  I  must 
treat  you  still  as  a  prisoner." 

"May  I  have  a  little  time  to  think  over  the 
matter  before  answering  ? " 

"So  that  you  may  have  a  chance  of  escaping 
me  ?"  replied  the  Captain. 

"Nothing  was  further  from  my  thoughts,"  said 
Charlie,  with  a  flush  of  indignation. 

"  I  believe  you,  Mr.  Brooke,"  rejoined  the  Captain 
with  gravity.  "  Let  me  know  any  time  before  twelve 
to-day  what  course  you  deem  it  right  to  take.  By 
noon  I  shall  sound  boot  and  saddle,  when  you  will 
be  ready  to  start.  Your  nautical  friend  here  may 
join  us  if  he  chooses." 

Now,  while  this  investigation  into  the  affairs  of 
one  prisoner  was  going  on,  the  other  prisoner,  Jake, 
was  busily  employed  investigating  his  own  affairs 
with  a  view  to  escape. 

How  he  fared  in  this  investigation  we  reserve 
for  another  chapter. 


J  I 


I'l 


'll 


J 


-!-«■ 


232 


CHAKUE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


r.\.. 


m 


m" 


i'%- 


CHAPTEK    XX. 


JAKE  THE   FLINT  IN  DIFFICULTIES. 


The  man  who,  at  the  time  we  write  of,  was 
known  by  the  name  of  Jake  the  Flint  had  acquired 
the  character  of  the  most  daring  and  cruel  scoundrel 
in  a  region  where  villains  were  by  no  means  rare. 
His  exploits  indicated  a  spirit  that  was  utterly 
reckless  of  life,  whether  his  own  or  that  of  his  fellow- 
men,  and  many  were  the  trappers,  hunters,  and 
Redskins  who  would  have  given  a  good  deal  and 
gone  far  to  have  the  chance  of  putting  a  bullet  in 
his  carcass. 

But,  as  is  not  unfrequently  the  case  with  such 
men,  Jake  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life,  and  when 
knife,  bullet,  and  rope,  cut  short  the  career  of  many 
less  guilty  men,  Jake  had  hitherto  managed  to  elude 
his  captors — at  one  time  by  strategy,  at  another  by 
a  bold  dash  for  life,  and  sometimes  bv  "  luck."  No 
one  had  a  kind  word  for  Jake,  no  one  loved,  though 
many  feared,  admired,  and  hated  him.  This  may 
seem  strange,  for  it  is  usually  found  that  even  in  the 
case  of  the  most  noted  outlaws  there  is  a  woman  or 
a  man,  or  both — who  cling  to  them  with  affection. 


m 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


233 


Perhaps  the  fact  that  Jake  was  exceptionally  harsh 
and  cruel  at  all  times,  may  account  for  this,  as  it 
accounted  for  his  sobriquet  of  Flint.  He  was  called 
by  some  of  those  who  knew  him  a  "  God-forsaken 
man."  We  merely  state  the  fact,  but  are  very  far 
from  adopting  the  expression,  for  it  ill  becomes  any 
man  of  mortal  mould  to  pronounce  his  fellow-man 
God-forsaken. 

In  the  meantime  we  feel  it  to  be  no  breach  of 
charity  to  say  that  Jake  had  forsaken  God,  for  his 
foul  language  and  bloody  deeds  proved  the  fact 
beyond  all  question.  He  was  deceitful  as  well  as 
cruel,  and  those  whi>  knew  him  best  felt  sure  that  his 
acting  under  Buck  Tam  was  a  mere  ruse.  There  is 
little  doubt  that  he  had  done  so  for  the  purpose  of 
obtaining  an  influence  over  a  gang  of  desperadoes, 
ready  to  hand,  as  it  were,  and  that  the  moment  he 
saw  his  opportunity  he  would  kill  Buck  Tom  and  take 
command.  The  only  thing  that  had  kept  him  from 
doing  so  sooner,  it  was  thought,  was  the  fact  that 
Buck  had  the  power  to  gain  the  affection  of  his 
m^  n,  as  well  as  to  cause  them  to  fear  him,  so  that 
Jake  had  not  yet  found  the  time  ripe  for  action. 

After  the  outlaw  had  been  put  into  the  room  by 
himself,  as  already  stated,  the  door  locked,  and  a 
sentry  posted  below  the  window,  he  immediately 
turned  with  all  his  energy  to  examine  into  his  cir- 
cumstances and  prospects.  First  of  all  his  wrists 
were  manacled.      That,   however,  gnve  him   little 


!  !  i 


'■';  l? 


234 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


it 


mr 


concern,  for  his  hands  were  unusually  small  and 
delicate,  and  he  knew  from  experience  that  he  could 
slip  them  out  of  any  handcuffs  that  would  close 
easily  on  his  wrists — a  fact  that  he  had  carefully 
concealed,  and  of  which  men  were  not  yet  aware, 
as  he  had  not  yet  been  under  the  necessity  of 
availing  himself  of  the  circumstance. 

The  rope  with  which  he  had  been  bound  on  the 
way  to  the  ranch  had  been  removed,  the  handcuffs 
being  deemed  sufficient.  As  the  window  of  his 
prison  was  over  thirty  feet  from  the  ground,  and 
a  sentinel  with  a  carbine  and  revolver  stood  below, 
it  was  thought  that  the  bird  who  had  so  frequently 
escaped  his  cage  before  was  safe  at  last,  and  fairly 
on  his  way  to  the  gallows. 

Not  so  thought  Jake  the  Flint.  Despair  did  not 
seem  to  be  a  possibility  to  him.  Accordingly,  he 
examined  his  prison  carefully,  and  with  a  hopeful 
smile.  The  examination  was  soon  completed,  for 
the  room  presented  no  facilities  whatever  for  escape. 
There  was  no  bed  from  which  to  take  the  sheets 
and  blankets  to  extemporise  a  rope.  No  mattress  to 
throw  over  the  window  so  as  to  break  a  heavy  man's 
fall.  No  chimney  by  which  to  ascend  to  the  roof, 
no  furniture,  indeed,  of  any  kind  beyond  a  deal 
chair  and  table.  The  door  was  of  solid  oak  and 
bolted  outside. 

Obviously  the  window  was  his  only  chance.  He 
went  to  it  and  looked  out.     The   depth  was   too 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


235 


much,  he  knew,  for  even  his  strong  bones  to  stand 
the  shock ;  and  the  sentinel  paced  to  and  fro  under- 
neath with  loaded  carbine. 

"  If  any  one  would  only  lay  a  feather-bed  down 
there,"  thought  Jake,  "I'd  jump  an'  take  my 
chance." 

While  he  was  gazing  meditatively  on  the  fair 
prospect  of  land  and  water  that  lay  before  him,  one 
of  the  bolts  of  the  door  was  withdrawn,  then  an- 
other, and  the  door  slowly  opened. 

For  an  instant  the  outlaw  gathered  himself  up  for 
a  rush,  with  a  view  to  sell  his  life  dearly,  and  he  had 
even  begun  to  draw  one  of  his  hands  out  of  the 
manacles,  when  the  folly  and  hopelessness  of  the 
attempt  struck  him.  He  quickly  checked  himself, 
and  met  his  jailor  (one  of  the  troopers)  with  a 
smiling  countenance  as  he  entered  and  laid  a  loaf 
and  a  jug  of  water  on  the  table. 

The  rattle  of  a  musket  outside  told  Jake  that  his 
jailor  had  not  come  alone. 

Without  a  word  the  man  turned,  and  was  leaving 
the  room,  when  Jake,  in  a  voice  of  great  humility, 
asked  him  to  stop. 

"  You  couldn't  remove  these  things,  could  you  ? " 
he  said,  holding  out  his  fettered  hands. 

"  No,"  answered  the  trooper,  sharply. 

"Ah!"  sighed  Jake,  "I  feared  it  was  agin  the 
rules.  You  couldn't  let  me  have  the  use  of  a  file, 
could  you,  for  a  few  minutes  ?     What !  agin'  rules 


u 


li 


!' 

.    ■ 

^   !   ! 

11 


% 


Ill 


236 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :    A  TALE 


5  i 


i 


II 


too  ?  It 's  a  pity,  for  I  'm  used  to  biusli  my  teeth 
with  a  file  of  a  mornin',  an'  I  like  to  do  it  before 
breakfast." 

Jake  interlarded  his  speech  with  a  variety  of 
oaths,  with  which  we  will  not  defile  the  paper,  but 
he  could  extract  no  further  reply  from  the  trooper 
than  a  glance  of  scorn. 

Left  to  himself,  Jake  again  went  to  the  window, 
which  was  a  small  cottage  one,  opening  inwards 
like  a  door.  He  opened  it  and  looked  out.  The 
sentinel  instantly  raised  his  carbine  and  ordered 
him  to  shut  it. 

"  Hullo !  Silas,  is  that  you  ? "  cried  Jake  in  sur- 
prise, but  paying  no  attention  to  the  threat,  "  I 
thought  you  had  quit  for  Heaven  durin'  the  last 
skrimidge  wi'  the  Eeds  down  in  Kansas  ?  Glad  to 
see  you  lookin*  so  well.  How 's  your  wife  an'  the 
child'n,  Silas  ? " 

"  Come  now,  Jake,"  said  the  trooper  sternly,  "  you 
know  it 's  all  up  with  you,  so  you  needn't  go  talkin' 
bosh  like  that — more  need  to  say  your  prayers. 
Stand  back  and  shut  the  window,  I  say,  else  I  '11  put 
a  bullet  through  your  gizzard." 

'*  Well  now,  Silas,"  said  Jake,  remonstratively,  and 
opening  the  breast  of  his  red  shirt  as  he  spoke,  "  I 
didn't  expect  that  of  an  old  friend  like  you — indeed 
I  didn't.  But,  see  here,  if  you  raaly  are  goin'  to  fire 
take  good  aim  an'  keep  clear  o'  the  heart  and  liver. 
The  gizzard  lies  hereabout  (pointing  to  his  bioast) 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


237 


and  easy  to  hit  if  you  'vo  a  steady  hand.  I  know 
the  exact  spot,  for  I  *ve  had  the  cuttin'  up  of  a  good 
bunch  o'  men  in  my  day,  an'  I  can't  bear  to  see  a 
thing  muddled.  But  hold  on,  Silas,  I  won't  put  ye 
to  the  pain  o'  shootin'  me.  I  '11  sliut  the  window  if 
you  '11  make  me  a  promise." 

"What's  that?"  demanded  the  trooper,  still 
covering  the  outlaw,  however,  with  his  carbine. 

"  You  know  I  'm  goin'  to  my  doom — that 's  what 
poetical  folk  call  it,  Silas — an'  I  want  you  to  help 
me  wind  up  my  affairs,  as  the  lawyers  say.  "Well, 
this  here  (holding  up  a  coin)  is  my  last  dollar,  the 
remains  o'  my  fortin',  Silas,  an'  this  here  bit  o'  paper 
that  I  'm  rappin'  round  it  is  my  last  will  an'  testi- 
monial. You'll  not  refuse  to  give  it  to  my  only 
friend  on  arth,  Hunky  Ben,  for  I've  no  wifj  ^  r 
chick  to  weep  o'er  my  grave,  even  though  they 
knew  where  it  was.  You  '11  do  this  for  me,  Silas, 
won't  you  ? " 

"  All  right — pitch  it  down." 

Jake  threw  the  coin,  which  fell  on  the  ground  a 
few  feet  in  front  of  the  trooper,  who  stooped  to  pick 
it  up. 

With  one  agile  bound  the  outlaw  leaped  from  the 
window  and  descended  on  the  trooper's  back,  which 
was  broken  by  the  crashing  blow,  and  Jake  rolled 
over  him  with  considerable  violence,  but  the  poor 
man's  body  had  proved  a  sufficient  buffer,  and  Jake 
rose  unhurt.     Deliberately  taking  the  carbine  from 


:it 


Ml 


11 


m  j 

1 

islrl 


!»• 


I 


III 

jt 

lii 


238 


CIIARLIK  TO  THE  IIKSCUE  :   A  TALE 


the  dead  man's  hand,  and  phicking  the  revolver 
from  his  belt,  he  sauntered  off  in  the  direction 
of  the  stables.  These  being  too  small  to  contain 
idl  the  troop-horses,  some  of  the  animals  were 
picketed  in  an  open  shed,  and  several  troopers 
were  rubbing  them  down.  The  men  took  Jake 
for  one  of  the  cow-boys  of  the  ranch,  for  he  passed 
them  whistling. 

Entering  the  stable  he  glanced  quickly  round, 
selected  the  finest  horse,  and,  loosing  its  halter  from 
the  stall,  turned  the  animal's  head  to  the  door. 

"What  are  ye  doin*  wi'  the  captain's  horse?" 
deiAanded  a  trooper,  who  chanced  to  be  in  the 
neighbouring  stall. 

"  The  captain  wants  it.  Hold  his  head  till  I  get 
on  him.  He's  ^risky,"  said  Jake,  in  a  voice  of 
authority. 

The  man  was  taken  aback  and  obeyed;  but  as 
Jake  mounted  he  turned  suddenly  pale. 

The  outlaw,  observing  the  change,  drew  the  re- 
volver, and,  pointing  it  at  the  trooper's  head,  said, 
in  a  low  savage  voice,  "  A  word,  a  sound,  and  your 
brains  are  on  the  floor!" 


The  man  stood 
Jake  shoo^   the 
througl 
as  he  .,     j.^ 


'   ) 


I' 


,U' 


ii-mouthed,  as  if  petrified, 
'le  fiery  horse  and  bounded 
-ooping  to  the  saddle-bow 
see,  even  at  that  moment, 


that  til    troop  r,  recovering  himself,  was  on  the 
point  of  utteriiig  a  shout.    Wheeling  round  in  the 


1 


OF  TIIK  SEA  AND  TIIK  ROCKIES. 


239 


saddle  he  fired,  and  the  man  fell  with  a  bullet  in 
his  hrain. 

The  shot  of  course  aroused  the  whole  ranch. 
Men  rushed  into  the  yard  with  and  without  arms  in 
wild  confusion,  but  only  in  time  to  see  a  flying 
horseman  cross  the  square  and  make  for  the  gate. 
A  rattling  irregular  volley  was  sent  after  him,  but  the 
only  effect  it  had  was  to  cause  the  outlaw  to  turn 
round  in  the  saddle  and  wave  his  hat,  while  he  gave 
vent  to  a  yell  of  triumph.  Another  moment  and 
he  was  beyond  the  bluff  and  had  disappeared. 

"  Boot  and  saddle ! "  instantly  rang  out  at  the 
ranch,  and  every  preparation  was  made  for  pursuit, 
though,  mounted  as  Jake  was  on  the  best  horse 
of  the  troop,  they  could  not  hope  to  overtake 
him. 

Hunky  Ben,  at  his  own  particular  request,  was 
permitted  to  go  on  in  advance. 

"  You  see,  sir,"  he  said  to  the  captain,  "  my  Black 
Polly  an't  quite  as  good  as  your  charger,  but  she 's 
more  used  to  this  sort  o'  country,  an'  I  can  take  the 
short  cuts  where  your  horse  could  hardly  follow." 

"  Go,  Ben,  and  good  luck  go  with  you  !  Besides, 
we  can  do  without  you,  now  that  we  have  Mr. 
Brooke  to  guide  us." 

"  Come  wi'  me,  sir,"  said  Hunky  Ben,  as  he  passed 
Charlie  on  his  way  to  the  stables.  "Don't  you 
hesitate,  Mr.  Brooke,  to  guide  the  captain  to  the 
cave  of  Buck  Tom.     I  'in  goiu'  on  before  you  to 


■  ■  •  1 ; 


240 


CHAllLIE  TO  THE  KKSCUE :   A  TALE 


B 


hunt  up  the  rej^tiles — to  try  an'  catch  Jake  the 
Flint!" 

The  scout  chuckled  inwardly  as  he  said  this. 

"  But  why  go  in  advance  ?  You  can  never  over- 
take the  scoundrel  with  such  a  start  and  on  srch  a 
horse." 

"  Never  you  mind  what  I.  can  or  can't  do,"  said 
Ben,  entering  the  stable  where  the  dead  trooper 
still  lay,  and  unfastening  Black  Polly.  "I've  no 
time  to  explain.  All  T  know  is  that  your  friend 
Leather  is  sure  to  be  hanged  if  he 's  cotched,  an'  I  'in 
sure  he 's  an  innocent  man — therefore,  I  'm  goin'  to 
save  him.  It 's  best  for  you  to  know  nothin'  more 
than  that,  for  I  see  you  're  not  used  to  tellin'  lies. 
Can  you  trust  mel" 

"  Certainly  I  can.  The  look  of  your  face,  Ben, 
even  more  chan  the  character  you  bear,  would  in- 
duce me  to  trust  you." 

"  Well  then,  Mr.  Brooke,  the  first  sign  o'  trust  is 
to  obey  orders  without  askin'  questions." 

"  True,  when  the  orders  are  given  by  one  who  has 
a  right  to  command,"  returned  Charlie. 

"Just  so,  an' my  right  to  command  lies  in  the 
fact  that  the  life  o'  your  friend  Leather  depends  on 
your  obedience." 

"  I  'm  your  humble  servant,  then.  But  what  am 
I  to  do  ? " 

"Do  whatever  Captain  Wilmot  orders  without 
objectin',  an'  speak  nothing  but  the   truth.     You 


he 
on 


an 


'oil 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  llOCKIES. 


241 


don't  need  to  speak  the  wliolc  truth,  hows'ever,"  added 
the  scout  thoughtfully,  as  he  led  out  his  coal-black 
steed.  "Your  friend  Leather  has  got  a  Christian 
name  of  course.  Don't  mention  it.  I  don't  want 
to  hear  it.  Say  nothin'  about  it  to  anybody.  The 
time  may  come  when  it  may  be  useful  to  irop  the 

name  of  Leather  and  call  your  friend  Mister 

whatever  the  tother  name  may  be.  Now  mind 
whiit  I  've  said  to  ye." 

As  he  spoke  the  last  words  the  scout  touched  the 
neck  of  his  beautiful  mare,  and  in  another  minute 
was  seen  racing  at  full  speed  over  the  rolling  plain. 


IS 


Q 


"'^ 

'  ; 

-■iH 

1 

i 

i 

242      CHARLJE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


TELLS  OP  A   CRUEL  DEED,   AND  SHOWS  HOW  MYSTERIOUSLY 
HUNKY  BEN   BEHAVED. 

When  Jake  escaped  from  the  ranch  of  Roar- 
ing Bull  he  tried  the  mettle  of  Captain  Wilmot's 
charger  to  the  uttermost,  for  well  he  knew  that  the 
pursuit  would  be  instant  and  vigorous;  that  his 
late  comrade  Charlie  Brooke  could  guide  the  troops 
to  the  cavern  in  Traitor's  Trap,  and  that  if  his 
companions,  who  would  doubtless  ride  straight  back, 
were  to  escape,  they  must  be  warned  in  time. 
He  also  knew  that  the  captain's  charger  was  a 
splendid  one.  In  order  to  accomplish  his  purpose, 
therefore,  he  would  ride  it  to  death. 

The  distance  between  the  ranch  and  the  outlaws' 
cave  was  not  so  great  but  that  any  mustang  in  the 
plains  could  have  traversed  it  in  a  day,  but  the  cruel 
man  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the  captain's 
charger  should  do  it  in  a  few  hours.  It  is  not  so 
much  distance  as  pace  that  kills.  Had  any  consi- 
deration whatever  been  extended  to  the  noble  crea- 
ture by  the  ignoble  brute  who  rode  it,  the  good 
horse  would  have  galloped  to  the  head  of  the  Trap 


•m 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


243 


almost  without  turning  a  hair.  At  iirst  he  strode 
out  over  the  rolling  prairie  with  the  untiring  vigour 
of  a  well-made  frame  and  a  splendid  constitution, 
leaping  the  little  cracks  and  inequalities  of  the 
ground  in  the  exuberance  of  his  strength ;  though 
there  was  no  need  to  bound,  and  coursing  over  the 
knolls  as  easily  as  he  cantered  down  the  hollows, 
while  his  flashing  eye  betokened  at  once  a  courage- 
ous and  a  gentle  spirit.  But  when  the  lower  slopes 
of  the  hills  were  reached,  and  steepish  gradients 
were  met  with  here  and  there,  the  horse  began  to 
put  back  first  one  ear  and  then  the  other,  and  some- 
times both,  as  if  in  expectation  of  the  familiar 
"  well  done,"  or  pat  on  the  neck,  or  check  of  the 
rein  with  which  the  captain  had  been  wont  to  sanc- 
tion a  slackening  of  the  pace,  but  no  such  grace  was 
allowed  him.  On  the  contrary,  when  the  first  symp- 
tom appeared  of  a  desire  to  reduce  speed  Jake 
drove  his  cruel  spurs  into  the  charger's  glossy  side. 
With  a  wild  snort  and  bound  the  horse  stretched 
out  again  and  spurned  the  ground  as  if  in  indignant 
surprise. 

Then  the  breath  began  to  labour  slightly;  the 
sweat  to  darken  his  rich  brown  coat,  and  the  white 
foam  to  fleck  his  broad  chest.  Still  Jake  pressed 
him  on  with  relentless  fury.  It  could  not  be 
expected  that  a  man  who  cared  not  for  his  fellows 
would  have  much  consideration  for  his  beast. 
Murder  of  a  deeper  dye  than  that  of  a  horse  was 


i 


li 


m 


214 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :  A  TALE 


I 


seething  in  the  outlaw's  brain.  This  to  him  useless 
expedition,  which  had  so  nearly  cost  him  his  life, 
would  be  the  last  that  Buck  Tom  should  command. 
After  blowing  out  his  brains  he  would  warn  the 
others  of  the  impending  danger  and  lead  them  away 
to  other  and  more  favourable  fields  of  enterprise. 

At  this  point  the  good  horse  stumbled  and  almost 
threw  his  rider,  who,  with  horrible  curses,  plied  the 
spurs  and  tugged  at  the  bit  until  blood  was  mingled 
with  the  flying  foam.  Never,  save  once — when 
Captain  Wilmot  was  caught  alone  in  the  plains  by 
Cheyenne  Indians  and  had  to  fly  for  his  life — had 
the  good  charger  been  urged  to  anything  like  such 
an  effort  as  he  was  now  called  on  to  make,  and  then 
there  was  no  cruelty  mingled  with  the  urging.  The 
very  tone  of  his  master's  voice,  as  he  patted  the 
neck  and  shook  the  rein  and  gently  touched  him 
with  the  spur,  must  have  convinced  the  intelligent 
creature  that  it  was  a  matter  of  life  or  death — 
that  there  was  a  stern  need-be  for  such  haste. 

Turning  at  last  into  the  gorge  of  the  Trap,  the 
charger  gasped  and  sobbed  with  distress  as  he  faced 
the  steep  ascent  and  tried,  with  the  unabated 
courage  of  a  willing  heart,  to  pull  himself  together 
while  the  unmerciful  monster  still  drove  in  the 
spurs  and  galled  his  tender  mouth.  But  the  brave 
effort  was  unavailing.  Stumbling  over  a  root  that 
crossed  the  path,  the  horse  plunged  forward,  and 
fell  with  a  crash,  sendini?  his  rider  over  his  head. 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


245 


lie 
.ve 
lat 
Aid 
ad. 


Jake,  alighting  on  his  face  and  riglit  shoulder,  lay 
stunned  for  a  few  seconds.  Then  he  jumped  up, 
displaying  torn  garments  and  a  face  covered  with 
blood. 

-Running  to  the  horse's  head  he  seized  the  rein 
and  shook  it  savagely,  kicking  the  animal's  face 
with  his  heavy  boots  in  his  anxiety  to  make  it  rise, 
but  the  poor  charger  was  beyond  his  cruelty  by 
that  time,  for  its  neck  had  been  broken  by  the  fall. 

Oh !  it  was  one  of  those  sights  which  are  fitted 
to  make  even  thoughtless  men  recognise  the  need  of 
a  Saviour  for  the  human  race,  and  to  reject  with 
something  like  scorn  the  doctrine — founded  on 
wholly  insufficient  evidence — that  there  is  no  future 
of  compensation  for  the  lower  animals ! 

The  outlaw  did  not  waste  time  in  vain  regrets. 
Bestowing  a  meaningless  curse  on  the  dead  charger, 
he  turned  and  went  up  the  narrow  glen  at  a  smart 
pace,  but  did  not  overstrain  himself,  for  he  knew 
well  that  none  of  the  troop-horses  could  have  kept 
up  with  him.  He  counted  on  having  plenty  of 
time  to  warn  his  comrades  and  get  away  without 
hurry.  But  he  reckoned  without  his  host — being 
quite  ignorant  of  the  powers  of  Black  Polly,  and 
but  slightly  acquainted  with  those  of  her  master 
Hunky  Ben. 

Indeed  so  agile  were  the  movements  of  Polly, 
and  so  thoroughly  was  the  scout  acquainted  with 
the  by-paths  and  short  cuts  of  that  region,  that  he 


m 


f: 


1 


246 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :  A  TALE 


actually  passed  the  fugitive  and  reached  the  head 
of  Traitor's  Trap  before  him.  This  he  managed  by 
forsaking  the  roads,  keeping  a  straighter  line  for 
the  outlaws'  cave,  and  passing  on  foot  over  the 
shoulder  of  a  hill  where  a  horseman  could  not  go. 
Thus  he  came  down  on  the  cavern,  about  half-an- 
liour  before  Jake's  arrival.  Clambering  to  the 
crevice  in  the  cliff  against  which  the  cave  abutted, 
and  sliding  down  into  a  hollow  on  its  earthen  roof, 
he  cautiously  removed  a  small  stone  from  its  posi- 
tion, and  disclosed  a  hole  through  which  he  could 
both  hear  and  see  most  of  what  took  place  inside. 

Lest  any  one  should  wonder  at  the  facility  with 
which  the  ground  lent  itself  to  this  manoeuvre,  we 
may  as  well  explain  that  the  bold  scout  possessed 
one  of  those  far-reaching  minds  which  are  not  satis- 
fied without  looking  into  everytliing, — seeing  to  the 
bottom  of,  and  peering  round  to  the  rear  of,  all 
things,  as  far  as  possible.  He  always  acted  on  the 
principle  of  making  himself  acquainted  with  every 
road  and  track  and  by-path,  every  stream,  pond, 
river,  and  spring  in  the  land.  Hence  he  was  well 
aware  of  this  haunt  of  outlaws,  and,  happening  to 
be  near  it  one  day  when  its  owners  were  absent,  he 
had  turned  aside  to  make  the  little  arrangement  of 
a  peep-hole,  in  the  belief  that  it  might  possibly  turn 
out  to  be  of  advantaf?e  in  course  of  time ! 

The  clump  of  shrubs  and  grass  on  the  rugged 
bank;  which  formed  the  top  of  the  cave,  effectu- 


he 

of 

irn 

tu- 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


247 


ally  concealed  the  natural  hollow  which  he  had 
deepened,  and  the  overhanging  mass  of  the  rugged 
cliff  protected  it  from  .ain  and  dew.    . 

What  Hunky  Ben  saw  on  looking  through  his 
peep-hole  filled  him  with  surprise  and  pity,  and 
compelled  him  to  modify  his  plans. 

Almost  below  him  on  a  brush  couch,  lay  the  tall 
form  of  Buck  Tom,  with  the  unmistakable  hue  of 
approaching  death  upon  his  countenance.  Beside 
him,  holding  his  head,  kneeled  the  much-wasted 
figure  of  Leather — the  reputed  outlaw.  Seated  or 
standing  around  in  solemn  silence  were  six  of  the 
outlaws,  most  of  whom  bore  tokens  of  the  recent 
fight,  in  the  form  of  bandage  on  head  or  limb. 

'*  I  brought  you  to  this,  Leather ;  God  forgive  me," 
said  the  dying  man  faintly. 

"  No,  you  didn't,  Ealph,"  replied  the  other,  calling 
him  by  his  old  familiar  name,  "  I  brought  myself  to 
it.  Don't  blame  yourself,  Ealph ;  you  weren't  half  so 
bad  as  me.  You  'd  never  have  been  here  but  for 
me.  Come,  Kalph,  try  to  cheer  up  a  bit ;  you're  not 
dying.  It 's  only  faint  you  are,  from  loss  of  blood 
and  the  long  gallop.  When  you  've  had  a  sleep 
and  some  food,  you  '11  feel  stronger.  We  '11  fetch  a 
doctor  soon,  an'  he  '11  get  hold  o'  the  bullet.  Dear 
Ealph,  don't  shake  your  head  like  that  an'  look  so 
solemn.     Cheer  up,  old  boy  1" 

Leather  spoke  with  a  sort  of  desperate  fervour, 
but  Ealph  could  not  cheer  up. 


m\ 


f 


I   I 


248 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


"  No,"  he  said  sadly,  "  there  is  no  cheer  for  me. 
I  *ve  thrown  my  life  away.  There 's  no  hope — no 
mercy  for  me.  I  've  been  trying  to  recall  the  past, 
an'  what  mother  used  to  teach  me,  but  it  won't 
come.  There 's  only  one  text  in  all  the  Bible  that 
comes  to  me  now.  It's  this — 'Be  sure  your  sin 
will  find  you  out!'  That's  true,  boys,"  he  said, 
turning  a  look  on  his  comrades.  "  Whatever  else 
may  be  false,  that 's  true,  for  I  knoiv  it." 

"  That 's  so,  dear  Kalph,"  said  Leather  earnestly, 
"  but  it's  no  less  true  that " 

Just  then  a  noise  was  heard  in  the  outer  pass- 
age; then  hurrying  footsteps.  Instinctively  every 
man  drew  his  revolver  and  faced  the  door.  Next 
moment  Jake  entered. 

"  Here,  one  of  you ;  a  drink — I'm  fit  to ha !" 

His  eyes  fell  on  the  figure  of  Buck  and  he  shrank 
back  for  a  moment  in  silent  surprise. 

"  Yes,  Jake,"  said  the  dying  man,  with  a  glance 
of  pity  not  unmingled  with  scorn,  "  it  has  come 
sooner  than  you  or  I  expected,  and  it  will  save  you 
some  trouble — maybe  some  regret.  I've  seen 
through  your  little  game,  Jake,  end  am  glad  I've 
been  spa-^^d  the  necessity  of  thwarting  you." 

He  stopped  owing  to  weakness,  and  Jake,  re- 
covering himself,  hastily  explained  the  reason  of  his 
sudden  appearance. 

"  Fetch  me  a  rag  an'  some  water,  boys,"  he  con- 
tinued.    "  It  looks  worse  than  it  is — only  skin  deep. 


% 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


249 


And  we  've  not  a  moment  to  lose.  Those  who  have 
a  mind  may  follow  me.  Them  that  wants  to  swing 
may  stop." 

"  But  how  about  Buck  Tom  ? "  asked  one  who 
was  not  quite  so  depraved  as  the  others. 

"What's  the  use  o'  askin'?"  said  Jake.  "It's 
all  up  with  him,  don't  you  see  ?  Besides,  he 's  safe 
enough.  They'd  never  have  the  heart  to  hang  a 
dying  man." 

"An'  Leather!"  cried  another.  "We  mustn't 
quit  Leather.  He's  game  for  many  a  fight  yet. 
Come,  Leather;  we'll  help  you  along,  for  they're 
sure  to  string  you  up  on  the  nearest  tree." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  me,"  said  Leather, 
looking  round,  for  he  still  kneeled  beside  his  old 
friend,  "I  don't  intend  to  escape.  Look  to  your- 
selves, boys,  an'  leave  us  alone." 

"  Unless  you  're  all  tired  o'  life  you  '11  quit  here 
an'  skip  for  the  woods,"  said  Jake,  as,  turning  round, 
he  hurriedly  left  the  place. 

The  others  did  not  hesitate,  but  followed  him 
at  once,  leaving  Buck  Tom,  and  his  friend  to  shift 
for  themselves. 

During  all  this  scene  Hunky  Ben  had  been  in- 
tently gazing  and  listening — chiefly  the  latter. 
When  the  outlaws  filed  past  him  he  found  it  ex- 
tremely difficult  to  avoid  putting  a  bullet  into  the 
Flint,  but  he  restrained  himself  because  of  what  yet 
remained  to  be  done. 


1;; 


I  ■■■iii' 


;iif: 


250 


CIIAKLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


As  soon  as  the  outlaws  were  well  out  of  sight 
Ben  arose  and  prepared  for  action.  First  of  all  he 
tightened  his  belt.  Then  he  pulled  the  hood  of  his 
coat  well  over  his  head,  so  that  it  effectually  con- 
cealed his  face,  and,  still  further  to  accomplish 
the  end  in  view,  he  fastened  the  hood  in  front  with 
a  wooden  pin.  Proceeding  to  the  stable  he  found, 
as  he  had  hoped  and  expected,  that  the  outlaws  had 
left  one  or  two  horse-cloths  behind  in  their  flight. 
In  one  of  these  he  enveloped  his  person  in  such  a 
way  as  to  render  it  unrecognisable.  Then  he  walked 
straight  into  the  cave,  and,  without  a  word  of  warn- 
ing, threw  hi'j  strong  arms  around  Shank  Leather 
and  lifted  him  off  the  ground. 

Of  course  Leather  shouted  and  struggled  at  first, 
but  as  well  might  a  kitten  have  struggled  in  the 
grip  of  a  grizzly  bear.  In  his  worn  condition  he 
felt  himself  to  be  utterly  powerless.  Buck  Tom 
made  a  feeble  effort  to  rise  and  help  him,  but  the 
mere  effort  caused  him  to  fall  back  with  a  groan 
of  helpless  despair. 

Swiftly  his  captor  bore  Leather  up  the  side  of 
the  hill  till  he  got  behind  a  clump  of  trees,  into  the 
heart  of  which  he  plunged,  and  then  set  his  burden 
down  on  his  feet.  At  the  same  time,  throwing  back 
his  hood  and  flinging  away  the  horse-cloth,  he  stood 
up  and  smiled. 

"  Hunky  Ben,  or  his  ghost ! "  exclaimed  Shank, 
forgetting  his  indignation  in  his  amazement. 


OF  THK  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


251 


of 
he 
len 


nk, 


"You're  riglit,  young  man,  though  you've  only 
see'd  me  once  that  I  know  of.  But  most  men  that 
see  me  once  are  apt  to  remember  me." 

"  Well,  Hunky,"  said  Leather,  while  the  indigna- 
tion began  to  return,  "you  may  think  this  very 
amusing,  but  it's  mean  of  a  big  strong  man  like 
you  to  take  advantage  of  a  fellow  that 's  as  wtak  as 
a  child  from  wounds  an*  fever.  Lend  me  one  o' 
your  six-shooters,  now,   so  as   we  may  stand  on 

somewhat  more  equal  terms  and but  a  truce  to 

boasting !  I  'm  sure  that  you  wouldn't  keep  smiling 
at  me  like  a  Cheshire  cat  if  there  wasn't  something 
behind  this." 

"  You  're  right,  Mr.  Leather,"  said  Ben,  becoming 
at  once  grave  and  earnest.  There  is  somethin'  be- 
hind it — ay,  an'  somethin'  before  it  too.  So  much, 
thi\t  I  have  barely  time  to  tell  'ee.  So,  listen  wi' 
both  ears.  There 's  a  bunch  o'  men  an'  troops  close 
to  the  Trap  even  now,  on  their  way  to  visit  your  cave. 
If  they  find  you — you  know  what  that  means  ?  " 

"  Death,"  said  Leather  quietly. 

"  Ay,  death ;  though  ye  don't  desarve  it,"  said  Ben. 

"But  I  do  deserve  it,"  returned  Shank  in  the 
same  quiet  voice. 

"  Well,  may-hap  you  do,"  rejoined  the  scout  coolly, 
"  but  not,  so  far  as  I  know,  in  connection  wi'  your 
present  company.    Now,  there 's  Buck  Tom " 

"  Ay,  what  of  him  ? "  asked  Shank,  anxiously. 

"Well,  in  the  nat'ral  course  o'  things,  death  is 


i{|> 


if  i 


,ii 


iiir 


III  ^>'i  i 


252 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  IlESCUE  :   A  TALE 


comin'  to  him  too,  an'  that  '11  save  him  t.'om  bein' 
strung  up — for  they  're  apt  to  do  that  sort  o*  thing 
hereaway  in  a  loose  free-an-easy  style  that 's  awk- 
ward sometime.  I  was  within  an  inch  of  it  myself 
once,  all  througli  a  mistake — I  '11  tell  'ee  about  that 
when  I  've  got  more  time,  maybe.  Well,  now,  I  'm 
keen  to  save  you  an'  Buck  Tom  if  I  can,  and  what 
I  want  you  to  understand  is,  that  if  you  expect  me 
to  help  you  at  a  time  when  you  stand  considerable 
in  need  o'  help,  you  '11  have  to  do  what  I  tell  'ee." 

"And  what  would  you  have  me  do?"  asked 
Shank,  with  a  troubled  look. 

"  Kemain  here  till  I  come  for  'ee,  and  when  you 
meet  me  in  company  say  nothin'  about  havin'  met 
me  before." 

"Can  I  trust  you,  Huriky  Ben?"  said  Shank, 
looking  at  him  earnestly. 

"  If  you  can't  trust  me,  what  d'  ye  propose  to  do  ? " 
asked  the  scout  with  a  grin. 

"You're  right,  Ben.  I  must  trust  you,  and,  to 
say  truth,  from  the  little  I  know  of  you,  I  believe 
I  've  nothing  to  fear.  But  my  anxiety  is  for  Kalph — 
Buck  Tom,  I  mean.  You  're  sure,  I  suppose,  that 
Mr.  Brooke  will  do  his  best  to  shield  him  ? " 

"  Ay,  sartin  sure,  an',  by  the  way,  don't  mention 
your  Christian  name  just  now — whatever  it  is — nor 
for  some  time  yet.  Good-day,  an'  keep  quiet  till  I 
come.     We  've  wasted  overmuch  time  a'ready." 

So  saying,  the  scout  left  the  coppice,  and,  flinging 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  UOCKIES. 


253 


open  his  coat,  re-entered  the  cave  a  very  different- 
looking  man  from  what  he  was  when  he  left  it. 

"Hunky  Ben!"  exclaimed  Buck,  who  had  re- 
covered by  that  time.  "  I  wish  you  had  turned  up 
lialf-an-hour  since,  boy.  You  might  have  saved 
my  poor  friend  Leather  from  a  monster  who  came 
here  and  carried  him  away  bodily." 

"Ay?  That's  strange,  now.  Hows'ever,  worse 
luck  might  have  befel  him,  for  the  troops  are  at  my 
heels,  an'  ye  know  what  would  be  in  store  for  him 
if  he  was  here." 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  know  it,  Ben,  and  what  is  in 
store  for  me  too ;  but  Death  will  have  his  laugh  at 
them  if  they  don't  look  sharp." 

"No,  surely,"  said  the  scout,  in  a  tone  of  real 
commiseration,  "you're  not  so  bad  as  that,  are 
you  ? " 

"Truly  am  I,"  answered  Buck,  with  a  pitiful 
look,  "shot  in  the  chest.  But  I  saw  you  in  the 
fight,  Ben ;  did  you  guide  them  here  ?" 

"That's  what  I  did — at  least  I  told  'em  which 
way  to  go,  an'  came  on  in  advance  to  wajn  you  in 
time,  so 's  you  might  escape.  To  tell  you  the  plain 
truth,  Ealph  Ritson,  I  've  bin  told  all  about  you  by 
your  old  friend  Mr.  Brooke,  an'  about  Leather  too, 
who,  you  say,  has  bin  carried  off  by  a  monster  ? " 

"  Yes — at  least  by  a  monstrous  big  man." 

"  You  're  quite  sure  o'  that  ? " 

"  Quite  sure." 


ii  'I 


m 


251 


CHAllLIE  TO  THK  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


"An'  you  would  know  the  monster  if  you  saw 
him  again  ? " 

"  I  think  I  would  know  his  figure,  but  not  his 
face,  for  I  did  not  see  it." 

"  Straiige ! "  remarked  the  scout,  with  a  simple 
look ;  "  an'  you  're  sartin  sure  you  don't  know  where 
Leather  is  now  ? " 

"  Not  got  the  most  distant  idea." 

"  That 's  well  now ;  stick  to  that,  an'  there 's  no 
fear  o'  Leather.  As  to  yourself — they  '11  never  think 
o*  hangin'  you  till  ye  can  walk  to  the  gallows — so 
cheer  u^.  Buck  Tom.  It  may  be  that  ye  desarve 
hangin',  for  all  I  know;  but  not  just  at  present. 
I  'm  a  bit  of  a  surgeon,  too — bein'  a  sort  o'  Jack-of- 
all-trades,  ind  know  how  to  extract  bullets.  What 
between  Mr.  Brooke  an'  me  an'  time,  wonders  may 
be  worked,  if  you're  wise  enough  to  keep  a  tight 
rein  on  your  tongue." 

While  the  scout  was  speaking,  the  tramp  of 
cavalry  was  heard  outside,  and  a  few  minutes  later 
Captain  Wilmot  entered  the  cave,  closely  followed 
by  Charlie  Brooke. 


y''^ 


M.^ 


OF  THE  SICA  AND  THE  ItOCKIES. 


255 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


THE  CAVE  OF  THE  OUTLAWS  INVADED  BY  GHOSTS  AND  U.S.  TUOOPS. 


We  need  scarcely  say  that  Buck  Tom  was  wise 
enough  to  put  a  bridle  on  his  tongue  after  the 
warning  hint  he  had  received  from  the  scout.  He 
found  this  all  the  easior  that  he  had  nothing  to  con- 
ceal  save  the  Christian  name  of  his  friend  Leather, 
and,  as  it  turned  out,  this  was  never  asked  for  by 
the  commander  of  the  troops.  All  that  the  dying 
outlaw  could  reveal  was  that  Jake  the  Flint  had 
suddenly  made  his  appearance  in  the  cave  only  a 
short  time  previously,  had  warned  his  comrades, 
and.  knowing  that  he  (Buck)  was  mortally  wounded, 
and  chat  Leatlier  was  helplessly  weak  from  a  wound 
which  had  nearly  killed  him,  had  left  them  both  to 
their  fate.  That,  just  after  they  had  gone,  an  un- 
usually broad  powerful  man,  with  his  face  concealed, 
had  suddenly  entered  the  cave  and  carried  Leather 
off,  in  spite  of  his  struggles,  and  that,  about  half-an- 
hour  later,  Hunky  Ben  had  arrived  to  find  the  cave 
deserted  by  all  but  himself.  Where  the  other  out- 
laws had  gone  to  he  could  not  tell — of  course  tliey 


iff^^ 


256 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  llESCUE  :   A  TALE 


would  not  reveal  that  to  a  comrade  who  was  sure  to 
fall  into  the  hands  of  their  enemies. 

"And  you  have  no  idea,"  continued  the  captain, 
"  who  the  man  is  that  carried  your  friend  Leather 
so  hurriedly  away  ? " 

"Not  the  slightest,"  returned  Buck  "Had  my 
revolver  been  handy  and  an  ounce  of  strength  left 
in  me,  you  wouldn't  have  had  to  ask  the  question." 

"  Passing  strange  ! "  murmured  Captain  Wilniot, 
glancing  at  the  scout,  who  was  at  the  moment 
seated  on  a  keg  before  the  fire  lighting  his  pipe,  and 
with  a  look  of  simple  benignant  stolidity  on  his 
grave  countenance.  "  Have  you  no  idea,  Ben,  where 
these  outlaws  have  taken  themselves  off  to  ? " 

"  No  more  'n  a  lop-eared  rabbit.  Captain  Wilmot," 
answered  the  scout.  "  You  see  there 's  a  good  many 
paths  by  which  men  who  knows  the  place  could 
git  out  o'  the  Trap,  an'  once  out  o  it  there 's  the 
whole  o'  the  Rockie  range  wliere  to  pick  an'  choose." 

"  But  how  comes  it,  Ben,  that  you  missed  Jake  ? 
Surely  the  road  is  not  so  broad  that  you  could  pass 
him  unseen !     Yet  you  arrived  here  before  him  ? " 

"  That 's  true,  sir,  but  sly  coons  like  the  Flint  can 
retire  into  the  brush  when  they  don't  want  to  be 
overhauled.  That  wasn't  the  way  of  it,  however. 
With  such  a  splendid  animal  as  your  poor  horse,  Cap- 
tain, an'  ridden  to  death  as  it  was — an'  as  I  'spected 
it  would  be — I  knowed  I  had  no  chance  o'  comin'  up 
wi'  the  Flint,  so  I  took  advantage  o'  my  knowledge 


HBMSf!! 


kG 


can 


lo 


be 


lever. 
|Cap- 
icted 
|u'  tip 

Icdse 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


257 


o'  the  lay  o'  the  land,  an'  pushed  ahead  by  a  straighter 
line — finishin'  the  last  bit  on  futt  over  the  ridge  of 
a  hill.     That  sent  me  well  ahead  o'  the  Flint,  an' 
so  I  got  here  before  him.     Havin'  ways  of  eaves- 
droppin'  that  other  people  don't  know  on,  I  peeped 
into  the  cave  here  and  saw  and  heard  how  matters 
stood.    Then  I  thought  )  harkin'  back  on  my  tracks 
an'  stoppin'  the  Flixit  wi'  a  bullet,  but  I  reflected 
'what  good '11  that  do?     The  shot  would  wake  up 
the  outlaws  an'  putt  them  on  the  scent  all  the  same.' 
Then  I  tried  to  listen  what  their  talk  was  about,  so 
as  I  might  be  up  to  their  dodges ;  but  I  hadn't  bin 
listenin'  long  when  in  tramps  the  Flint  an'  sounds 
the  alarm.     Of  course  I  might  have  sent  him  an' 
p'r'aps  one  o'  the  others  to  their  long  home  from 
where  I  stood ;  but  I  've  always  had  an  objection  to 
shoot  a  man  behind  his  back.    It  has  such  a  sneakin' 
sort   o'   feel   about   it!      An'   then,   the   others — I 
couldn't   see    how   many   there   was — would   have 
swarmed  out  on  me,  an'  I  'd  have  had  to  make 
tracks  for  the  scrub,  an'  larn  nothin'  more.     So  I 
fixed  to  keep  quiet  an'  hear  and  see  all  that  I  could 
— p'r'aps  find  out  where  they  fixed  to  pull  out  to. 
But  I  heard  nothin'  more  worth  tellin'.     They  only 
made  some  hurried,  an'  by  no  means  kindly,  observa- 
tions about  poor  Buck  an'  Leather  an'  went  off  over 
the  hills.     I  went  into  the  woods  a  bit  myself  arter 
that,  just  to  be  well  out  o'  the  way,  so  to  speak,  an' 
when  I  got  back  liere  Leather  was  gone  ! " 


'r'.,.C 


-t^Jiiiiiia 


258 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


"  And  you  didn't  see  the  man  that  carried  him  off?" 

"  No,  I  didn't  see  him." 

■'You'd  have  shot  liim,  of  course,  if  you  had  seen 
hhn?" 

"  No,  indeed,  captain,  I  wouldn't." 

"  No !  why  not  ? "  asked  tlie  captain  with  a  pecu- 
liar smile. 

"  Well,  because,"  answered  the  scout,  with  a  look 
of  great  solemnity,  "  I  wouldn't  shoot  ,'uch  a  man 
on  any  account — no  matter  what  he  was  doin' !" 

"Indeed  !"  returned  the  other  with  a  broad aning 
smile.  *'  I  had  no  idea  you  were  superstitious,  ijen. 
I  thought  you  feared  neither  man  nor  devil.'' 

"What  I  fear  an'  what  I  don't  fear,"  returned 
the  scout  with  quiet  dignity,  "is  a  matter  which 
has  never  given  me  mi.ch  consarn." 

"Well,  don't  be  hurt,  Hunky  Ben,  I  don't  for  one 
moment  question  your  courage,  only  I  fancied  that 
if  you  saw  any  one  rescuing  an  outlaw  you  would 
have  tried  to  put  a  bullet  into  him  whether  he  hap- 
pened to  be  a  man  or  a  ghost." 

"  But  I  have  told  you,"  broke  in  Buck  Tom  with 
something  of  his  old  fire,  "  that  Leather  is  not  an 
outlaw." 

"  I  have  only  your  word  for  that,  and  you  know 
what  that  is  worth,"  returned  the  captain.  "I  don't 
want  to  be  hard  or.  one  apparently  so  near  his  end, 
and  to  say  truth,  I  'm  inclined  to  believe  you,  but 
we  know  that  this  man  Leather  has  been  for  a  long 


11    ■ 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES, 


259 


'AW 


)n 


rf 


time  in  your  company — whether  a  member  of  your 
band  or  not  must  be  settled  before  another  tribunal. 
If  caught,  he  stands  a  good  chance  of  being  hanged. 
And  now,"  added  the  captain,  turning  to  a  sergeant 
who  had  entered  the  cave  with  him,  "  tell  the  men 
to  put  up  their  horses  as  best  they  may.  We  camp 
here  for  the  night.  Wc  can  do  nothing  while  it  is 
dark,  but  with  the  first  gleam  of  day  we  will  make 
a  tliorougli  search  of  the  neighbourhood." 

While  the  troopers  and  their  commander  were 
busy  making  themselves  as  comfortable  as  possible 
in  and  around  the  cave,  the  scout  went  quietly  up  to 
the  clump  of  wood  where  Leather  was  in  hiding, 
and  related  to  that  unfortunate  all  that  had  taken 
place  since  he  left  him. 

"It  is  very  good  of  you,  Hunky,  to  take  so 
much  interest  in  me  and  incur  so  much  risk  and 
trouble ;  but  do  you  know,"  said  Leather,  with  a 
look  of  surprise,  not  unrningled  with  amus.  '.aent, 
"  you  are  a  puzzle  to  me,  for  I  can't  understan  '  how 
you  could  tell  Captain  Wilmot  such  a  heap  o'  lies 
— you  that  has  got  the  name  of  bein*  the  truest- 
hearted  SCO;  :  on  the  frontier ! " 

"  You  puzzle  me  more  than  I  puzzle  you,  Leather," 
returned  the  scout,  with  a  simple  look.  "  What  lies 
have  itold?" 

*'  Why,  all  yuu  said  about  what  you  saw  and 
heard  when  you  said  you  were  cavesdroppin*  must 
have  been  nons  nise,  you  know,  lor  how  could  you 


m 


i 


260 


CIIARLIK  TO  THE  RKSCUE :   A  TALE 


hear  and  see  what  took  place  in  the  cave  through 
tons  of  rock  and  earth  ? " 

"  How  I  saw  and  heard,  my  son  Leather,  is  a  pri- 
vate affair  of  my  own,  but  it  was  no  lie. 

Leather  looked  incredulous. 

"  Then  you  said,"  ho  continued,  "  that  you  didn't 
see  the  man  that  carried  me  away." 

"  No  more  I  did,  boy.     I  never  saw  him  ! " 

"  What !  not  even  in  a  looking-glass  ? " 

"Not  even  in  a  lookin'-glass,"  returned  Hunky. 
"  I  've  seed  his  rejledion  there  many  a  time, — an'  a 
pretty  good-lookin'  reflection  it  was — but  I  've  never 
see'd  himself — that  I  knows  on !  No,  Leatlier,  if 
Captain  Wilniot  had  axed  me  if  I  saw  you  carried 
off,  I  might  ha'  been  putt  in  a  fix,  but  he  didn't  ax  me 
that.  He  axed  if  I  'd  seen  the  man  that  carried  you 
off  an'  I  told  the  truth  when  I  said  I  had  not.  More- 
over I  wasn't  bound  to  show  him  that  he  wasn't  fit  to 
be  a  lawyer — specially  when  he  was  arter  an  inno- 
cent man,  an'  might  p'r'aps  hang  him  without  a 
trial.  It  was  my  duty  to  guide  the  captain  in  pur- 
suit of  outlaws,  an'  it  is  my  duty  to  shield  an  inno- 
cent man.  Between  the  two  perplexin'  duties  I 
tried  to  steer  as  straight  a  course  as  I  could,  but  I 
confess  I  had  to  steer  pretty  close  to  the  wind." 

"  Well,  Hunky,  it  is  my  duty  to  thank  you  instead 
of  criticising  you  as  I  have  done,  but  how  do  you 
come  to  be  so  sure  that  I  'm  innocent  ? " 

"P'r'aps    because    ye    putt    such    an    innocent 


I 

T 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


261 


question,"  replied  Ben,  with  a  little  smile.  "  D'  ye 
rally  think,  Leather,  that  an  old  scout  like  me  is 
goin'  to  let  you  see  through  all  the  outs  and  ins  by 
which  I  comes  at  my  larnin' !  It 's  enough  for  you 
to  know,  boy,  that  I  know  a  good  deal  more  about 
you  than  ye  think — more  p'r'aps  than  ye  know 
about  yerself.  I  don't  go  for  to  say  that  you  're  a 
born  angel,  wantin'  nothin'  but  a  pair  o'  wings  to 
carry  ye  off  to  the  better  land — by  no  means,  but 
I  do  know  that  as  regards  jinin'  Buck  Tom's  boys, 
or  takin'  a  willin'  part  in  their  devilish  work,  ye  are 
innocent,  an'  that 's  enough  for  me." 

"I'm  glad  you  know  it  and  believe  it,  Ben," 
said  Leather,  earnestly,  "  for  it  is  true.  I  followed 
Buck,  because  he 's  an  old,  old  chum,  and  I  did  it  at 
the  risk  of  my  life,  an'  then,  as  perhaps  you  are 
aware,  we  were  chased  and  I  got  injured.  So  far  I 
am  innocent  of  acting  with  these  men,  but  0  Ben, 
I  don't  admit  my  innocence  in  anything  else !  My 
whole  life — well,  well — it 's  of  no  use  talkin'.  Tell 
me,  d'  ye  think  there 's  any  chance  o'  Buck  getting 
over  this  ? " 

"  He  may.  Nobody  can  tell.  I  '11  do  my  best 
for  him.  I  never  lose  hope  of  a  man,  after  what 
I  've  see'd  in  my  experience,  till  the  breath  is  fairly 
out  of  him." 

"  Thank  God  for  these  words,  Ben." 

"Yes,"  continued  the  scout,  "and  your  friend 
Brooke  is  at  this  moment  sunk  in  tlie  blue  dumps 


{ 


' 


ii 

i; 

i 


2G2 


ClIAllLIE  TU  TllK  UKSCUE  :   A  TALIO 


m 


L 


because  you  liave  beeu  earned  olf  by  a  great 
mysterious  monster ! " 

"  Then  he  doesn't  know  it  was  you  ? "  exclaimed 
Leather. 

"  In  course  not.  An'  he  doesn't  know  you  are 
within  five  hundred  yards  of  him.  An'  what's 
more,  you  mustn't  let  him  know  it  was  me,  for 
that  nmst  be  kept  a  dead  secret,  else  it'll  ruin 
my  character  on  the  frontier.  We  must  surround 
it  wi'  mystery,  my  boy,  till  all  is  safe.  But  I  didn't 
come  up  here  to  enjoy  an  evcnin's  conversation. 
You're  not  safe  where  you  are.  Leather.  They'll 
be  scourin'  all  round  for  you  long  before  sun-up, 
so  I  must  putt  you  where  you'll  be  able  to  look 
on  an'  grin  at  them." 

"  Where  will  that  be  ?  "  asked  Leatlier,  with  some 
curiosity. 

"  You  know  the  cliff  about  five  hundred  feet  hioli 
that  rises  just  over  on  the  other  side  o'  the  valley — 
where  the  water-shoot  comes  down  ?  " 

"Ay,  it's  likely  I  do,  for  I've  seen  it  every 
mornin'  for  months  past." 

"  An'  you  remember  the  hole  near  the  top  o'  the 
<3lifr?" 

"  Yes — that  looks  about  the  size  of  a  crow  ? " 

"  Whatever  it  looks  like  it 's  three  times  the  size 
of  a  man,  an'  it 's  the  mouth  of  a  cave,"  returned  the 
scout.  "  Now,  I  '11  lead  you  to  the  track  that  '11  let 
you  up  to  that  cave.     It 's  a  splendid  place,  full  of 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  liOCKIES. 


263 


all  sorts  o'  holes  an'  places  where  a  man  couldn't 
find  you  even  if  he  know'd  you  was  there.  Once 
up,  you  may  sit  down,  smoke  your  pipe  in  the 
mouth  o'  the  cave,  an'  enjoy  yourself,  lookin'  on  at 
the  hunt  arter  yourself.  Here 's  a  bit  o'  chuck  I  've 
brought  to  keep  you  from  wearyin',  for  they  may 
keep  it  up  all  day.  When  all  danger  is  past  I  '11 
come  up  for  ye.  You  needn't  show  more  o'  your- 
self, however,  than  the  top  o'  your  head.  A  man 
can  never  be  over-cautious  when  he 's  bein'  hunted 
down.  An'  mind,  don't  leave  the  place  till  I  come 
for  you." 

Handing  a  cold  roast  fowl  and  a  loaf  to  his 
companion,  the  scout  got  up  and  led  him  away  to 
the  spot  which  he  had  just  described.  It  was  by 
that  time  quite  dark,  but  as  Hunky  Ben  knew  every 
inch  of  tlie  ground  lie  glided  along  almost  as  quickly 
as  if  it  had  been  broad  day,  followed,  with  some 
difficulty,  by  j)oor  Leather,  who  was  still  in  a  state 
of  great  prostration,  partly  because  of  his  injury  and 
partly  in  consequence  of  his  previous  dissipation. 
As  the  place,  however,  was  not  much  more  than 
half-a-mile  distant  his  powers  of  endurance  were  not 
much  tried.  The  scout  led  him  across  the  narrow 
valley  just  above  the  outlaws'  cave,  and  then,  enter- 
ing a  steep  rocky  defile,  he  began  to  ascend  a  place 
that  was  more  suitable  for  goats  than  men.  After 
half-an-hour  of  upward  toil  they  reached  a  plateau 
where    the  track — if  it  may  be  so  styled — seemed 


t'f 


mrr 


264 


CIIAULIE  TO  TIIK  RKSCUE :   A  TALE 


to  run  in  a  zig-zag  manner  until  it  reached  a 
small  hole  in  the  solid  rock.  Through  this  tlicy 
entered  and  found  themselves  within  a  cavern 
and  in  total  darkness. 

"  We  may  rest  a  bit  now,"  said  the  scout.  "  There 's 
a  ledge  hereabouts.  There  you  are.  Sit  down. 
I  '11  have  to  take  your  hand  here  lest  you  fall  off 
the  bridge  into  the  holes  on  each  side  o'  the  track." 

"  Are  the  holes  dangerous  ? "  asked  Leather. 

"They're  dangerous  enough  to  be  worth  takin' 
care  of,  anyhow,  for  if  ye  was  to  tumble  into  one 
you  'd  never  come  out  again.  There,  now,  let 's  go 
on,  for  if  I  don't  git  back  soon,  they  '11  be  wonderin' 
if  the  monster  hasn't  run  away  wi'  me  too,  as  well 
as  you ! " 

After  advancing  a  short  distance  in  total  dark- 
ness— Ben  feeling  his  way  carefully  step  by  step — 
they  came  suddenly  to  the  hole  in  the  front  of  the 
cave  to  which  reference  has  been  already  made. 
The  place  had  evidently  been  used  before  as  a  place 
of  refuge  and  temporary  abode,  for,  near  this  front- 
mouth  of  the  cave  was  found  a  litter  of  pine  branches 
which  had  plainly  been  used  as  a  bed. 

"  Sit  ye  down  there,  Leather,"  said  the  scout, 
"  see,  or,  rather,  hear — for  the  eyes  aren't  of  much 
use  just  now — I  've  set  down  the  grub  an'  a  flask 
o'  water  beside  ye.  Don't  strike  a  light  unless  you 
want  to  have  your  neck  stretched.  Daylight  won't 
be  long  o'  lettin'  ye  see  what 's  goin'  on.     You  won't 


b-lli^lL-^jlj^ .  «J"X 


OF  TIIK  SKA  AND  THE  UOCKIKS. 


265 


weary,  for  it  '11  be  as  good  as  a  play,  yourself  bein' 
chief  actor  an'  audience  all  at  the  same  time ! " 

Saying  this  the  scout  melted,  as  it  were,  into  the 
darkness  of  the  cavern,  and,  with  noiseless  moc- 
casined  feet,  retraced  his  steps  to  the  rear  entrance. 

Left  to  himself  the  poor  wanderer  found  both 
time  and  food  for  reflection,  for  he  did  not  dare  in 
the  darkness  to  move  from  the  spot  where  he  had 
seated  himself.  At  first  an  eerie  feeling  of  inde- 
finable fear  oppressed  him,  but  this  passed  away 
as  the  busy  thoughts  went  rambling  back  to  home 
and  the  days  of  comparative  innocence  gone  by. 
Forgetting  the  dark  surroundings  and  the  threaten- 
ing dangers,  he  was  playing  again  on  the  river 
banks,  drinking  liquorice-water,  swimming,  and 
rescuing  kittens  with  Charlie  Brooke.  Anon,  he 
was  wandering  on  the  sea-beach  with  his  sister, 
brown-eyed  Mary,  or  watching  the  manly  form  of 
his  old  friend  and  chum  buffeting  the  waves  to- 
wards the  wreck  on  the  Sealford  Eocks.  Memory 
may  not  be  always  faithful,  but  she  is  often  sur- 
prisingly prompt.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
Shank  Leather  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  again  and 
was  once  more  in  the  drinking  and  gambling  saloons 
— the  "  Hells  "  of  New  York — with  his  profoundly 
admired  "friend"  and  tempter  Ealph  Eitson.  It 
was  a  wild  whirl  and  plunge  from  bad  to  worse 
through  which  Memory  led  him  now — scenes  at 
which  he  shuddered  and  on  which  he  would  fain 


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266 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


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have  closed  his  eyes  if  possible,  but  Memory  knows 
not  the  meaning  of  mercy.  She  tore  open  his  eyes 
and,  becoming  unusually  strict  at  this  point,  bade 
him  look  particularlj''  at  all  the  minute  details  of 
his  reckless  life — especially  at  the  wrecks  of  other 
lives  that  had  been  caused  by  the  wreck  of  liis 
own.  Then  the  deepest  deep  of  all  seemed  to  be 
reached  when  he  rose — or  rather  fell — from  the 
condition  of  tempted  to  that  of  tempter,  and,  some- 
how, managed  for  a  time  to  lead  even  the  far 
stronger-minded  Ealph  Ritson  on  the  road  to  ruin. 
But  he  did  not  lead  him  long.  The  stronger 
nature  soon  re-asserted  itself ;  seized  the  reins ;  led 
the  yielding  Leather  to  the  cities  of  the  far  west; 
from  gambling  took  to  robbing,  till  at  last  the  gay 
and  handsome  Eitson  became  transformed  into 
the  notorious  Buck  Tom,  and  left  his  weaker  chum 
to  care  for  himself. 

It  was  at  this  point — so  Memory  recalled  to  him 
— that  he.  Leather,  was  stopped,  in  mid  and  mad, 
career,  by  a  man  of  God  with  the  love  of  Jesus 
in  his  heart  and  on  his  lips.  And  at  this  point 
Memory  seemed  to  change  her  action  and  proved 
herself,  although  unmerciful,  pre-eminently  faithful. 
She  reminded  him  of  the  deep  contrition  that  God 
wrought  in  his  heart;  of  the  horror  that  over 
whelmed  him  when  he  thought  of  what  he  was,  and 
what  he  had  done;  of  the  sudden  resolve  he  had 
formed  to  follow  Eitson,  and  try  to  stop  him  in  the 


UlS 


OF  THK  SKA  AND  THE  ROCKIKS. 


267 


fearful  career  on  which  he  had  entered  Then 
came  the  memory  of  failure  ;  of  desperate  anxieties ; 
of  futile  entreaties ;  of  unaccountably  resolute  per- 
severance ;  of  joining  the  outlaw  band  to  be  near 
his  friend ;  of  being  laughed  to  scorn  by  them  all ; 
of  being  chased  by  U.S.  troops  at  the  very  com- 
mencement of  his  enterprise;  of  being  severely 
wounded,  rescued,  and  carried  off  during  the  flight 
by  Buck  Tom,  and  then — a  long  blank,  mingled 
with  awful  dreams  and  scenes,  and  ribald  songs, 
and  curses — some  of  all  which  was  real,  and  some 
the  working  of  a  fevered  brain. 

So  terribly  vivid  were  these  pictures  of  memory, 
that  one  of  the  shouts  of  dreamland  absolutely 
awoke  him  to  the  fact  that  he  had  extended  his 
wearied  limbs  on  his  couch  of  pine  brush  and  fallen 
asleep.  He  also  awoke  to  the  perception  that  it 
was  broad  daylight,  and  that  a  real  shout  had  min- 
gled with  that  of  dreamland,  for  after  he  had  sat  up 
and  listened  intently  for  a  few  moments,  the  shout 
was  repeated  as  if  at  no  great  distance. 


*: 


f]    1 

iiii 

,   it: 

268 


ciiaklif;  to  the  uescue:  a  tale 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 


THE  TROOPS  OUTWITTED  BY  THE  SCOUT  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


|W! 


I 


C;: 
k:. 


Creeping  quickly  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave 
Leather  peeped  cautiously  out,  and  the  scene  that 
met  his  startled  gaze  was  not  calculated  to  restore 
that  equanimity  which  his  recent  dreams  had  dis- 
turbed. 

The  narrow  and  rugged  valley  which  lay  spread 
out  below  him  was  alive  with  horsemen,  trotting 
hither  and  thither  as  if  searching  for  some  one, 
and  several  parties  on  foot  were  scaling  gorges 
and  slopes,  up  which  a  horseman  could  not 
scramble. 

The  shout  which  had  awakened  the  fugitive  was 
uttered  by  a  dismounted  trooper  who  had  climbed 
higher  on  the  face  of  the  cliff  than  his  fellows,  and 
wished  to  attract  the  attention  of  those  below. 

"  Hi !  hallo ! "  he  cried,  "  send  Hunky  Ben  up 
here.  "I've  found  a  track  that  seems  to  lead  to 
somewhere,  but  it  '11  need  the  scout's  nose  to  ferret 
it  out." 

Leather's  heart  beat  wildly,  for,  from  the  position 
of  the  man,  he  could  not  doubt  that  he  had  dis- 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


269 


covered  the  track  leading  up  to  the  cave.  Before  he 
could  think  how  he  should  act,  a  response  came  to 
the  call  from  Hunky  Ben. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  he  shouted,  in  a  voice  so  bold  and  re- 
sonant, that  Leather  felt  it  was  meant  to  warn  him 
of  his  danger,  "  Ay,  ay.  Hold  on  1  Don't  be  in  a 
hurry.  The  tracks  branch  out  further  on,  an'  some 
o'  them  are  dangerous.  Wait  till  I  come  up. 
There 's  a  cave  up  there,  I  '11  lead  ye  to  it." 

This  was  more  than  enough  for  Leather.  He 
turned  hastily  to  survey  his  place  of  refuge.  It 
was  a  huge  dismal  cavern  with  branching  tunnels 
around  that  disappeared  in  thick  obscurity,  and 
heights  above  tliat  lost  themselves  in  gloom; 
holes  in  the  sides  and  floor  that  were  of  invisible 
depth,  and  curious  irregular  ledges,  that  formed  a 
sort  of  arabesque  fringe  to  the  general  confusion. 

One  of  these  ornamental  ledges,  stretching  along 
the  roof  with  many  others,  lost  itself  in  the  gloom 
and  seemed  to  be  a  hopeful  living-place — all  the 
more  hopeful  that  it  was  in  the  full  blaze  of  light 
that  gushed  in  through  the  front  opening  of  the 
cave.  This  opening,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  on 
the  face  of  the  cliff  and  inaccessible.  But  Leather 
found  that  he  could  not  reach  the  ledge.  Hastening 
to  the  dark  side  of  the  cave,  however,  he  saw  that 
by  means  of  some  projections  and  crevices  in  the 
rocky  wall  he  could  reach  the  end  of  the  ledge. 
Creeping  along  it  he  soon  found  himself  close  to 


ill. 


I    ii 


m 


'  m 


11 


■Hit: 


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l.'i- 


5^70 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  llESCUE  :   A  TALE 


M 


the  opt-^ning,  surrounded  by  strong  light,  but  effec- 
tually concealed  from  view  by  the  ledge.  It  was  as 
if  he  were  on  a  natural  rafter,  peeping  down  on  the 
floor  below !  As  there  was  a  multitude  of  such 
ledges  around,  which  it  would  take  several  men 
many  hours  to  examine,  he  began  to  breathe  more 
freely,  for,  would  the  searchers  not  naturally  think 
that  a  fugitive  would  fly  to  the  darkest  recesses  of 
his  place  of  refuge,  rather  than  to  the  brightest 
and  most  accessible  spot  ? 

He  gave  vent  to  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  was  congra- 
tulating himself  upon  his  wisdom,  when  his  eyes 
chanced  to  fall  on  the  flask  of  water  and  cold  roast 
fowl  and  loaf  lying  conspicuous  in  the  full  glare  of 
light  that  flooded  the  front  part  of  the  cave ! 

If  the  fowl  had  been  thrust  whole  into  his 
throat  it  could  scarcely  have  added  to  the  gush  of 
alarm  that  choked  him.  He  slipped  incontinently 
from  his  arabesque  ledge  and  dropped  upon  the 
floor.  Securing  the  lell-tale  viands  with  eager  haste 
he  dashed  back  into  the  obscurity  and  clambered 
with  them  back  to  his  perch.  And  not  much  too 
soon,  for  he  had  barely  settled  down  when  the  voice 
of  the  scout  was  heard  talking  pretty  loudly. 

"  Come  along,  Captain  Wilmot,"  he  said,  "  give 
me  your  hand,  sir.  It 's  not  safe  to  walk  alone  here, 
even  wi'  a  light." 

"  Here,  where  are  you  ?  Oh  !  All  right.  Haven't 
you  got  a  match  ? "  asked  the  captain. 


feti 


Lve 
ire, 

m't 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


271 


"  Nothin'  tliat  would  burn  more  'n  a  few  seconds. 
We're  better  without  a  light,  for  a  gust  o'  wind 
might  blow  it  out  an'  leave  us  worse  than  we  was. 
Mind  this  step.     Tliere." 

"  Well,  I  'm  glad  I  didn't  bring  any  of  my  men  in 
here,"  said  the  Captain,  as  he  kicked  one  of  his 
heavy  boots  violently  against  a  projection  of  rock. 

"  Ay — 'tis  as  well  you  didn't,"  returned  the  scout, 
in  a  tone  suggestive  of  the  idea  that  he  was  smiling. 
"For  there's  holes  on  both  sides,  an'  if  one  o'  your 
men  went  down,  ye  might  read  the  funeral  sarvice 
over  him  at  once,  an'  be  done  with  it.  There 's  a 
glimmer  o'  daylight  at  last.  We  '11  soon  be  at  the 
other  end  now." 

"  A  horrible  place,  truly,"  said  the  Captain,  "  and 
one  that  it  would  be  hard  to  find  a  fellow  in  even  if 
we  knew  he  was  here." 

"  Didn't  I  say  so,  Captain  ?  but  ye  wouldn't  be 
convinced,"  said  Hunky  Ben,  leading  his  companion 
into  the  full  light  of  the  opening  and  coming  to  a 
halt  close  to  the  ledge  above  which  the  fugitive 
lay.  "  iJesides,  Leather  could  never  have  found  his 
way  here  alone." 

"You  forget,"  returned  Wilmot,  with  a  peculiar 
smile,  "  the  monster  might  have  shown  him  the  way 
or  even  have  carried  him  hither." 

"Ah,  true,"  answered  the  scout,  with  solemn 
gravity.     "  There 's  somethin'  in  that."  . 

Wilmot  laughed. 


w. 


m 


m 


s 

1 
1 

i 

1 

'  ;■■ 

■ 

'U 

272 


CIIAltUK  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


m 


"  What  a  splendid  view,"  he  said,  going  forward 
to  the  opening — "and  see,  here  is  a  bed  of  pine 
brush.  No  doubt  the  cave  must  have  been  used  as 
a  place  of  refuge  by  the  Redskins  in  days  gone  by." 

"Ay,  an'  by  the  pale-faces  too,"  said  the  scout. 
"  Why,  I  've  had  occasion  to  use  it  myself  more  than 
once.  And,  as  you  truly  obsarve,  sir,  there 's  small 
chance  of  findin'  a  man  once  he 's  in  here.  As  well 
run  after  a  rabbit  in  his  hole." 

"  Or  search  for  a  needle  in  a  haystack,"  observed 
the  Captain,  as  he  gazed  with  curious  interest 
around  and  above  him.  "Well,  Ben,  I  give  in. 
You  were  right  w!ien  you  said  there  was  no  proba- 
bility of  my  finding  any  of  the  outlaws  here." 

"  I  'm  gineraily  right  when  I  speak  about  what  I 
understand,"  returned  the  scout  calmly.  "  So  now, 
Captain,  if  you  're  satisried,  we  may  as  well  go  an' 
have  a  look  at  the  other  places  I  spoke  of." 

Assenting  to  this  the  two  men  left  the  place,  but 
Leather  continued  to  lie  perfectly  still  for  a 
considerable  time  after  their  footsteps  had  died 
away.  Then,  gliding  from  his  perch,  he  dropped  on 
thb  floor  and  ran  to  the  opening  where  he  saw  the 
troopers  still  riding  about,  but  gradually  going 
farther  and  farther  away  from  him.  The  scene  was 
not  perhaps,  as  the  scout  had  prophesied,  quite  "  as 
good  as  a  play,"  but  it  certainly  did  become  more 
and  more  entertaining  as  the  searchers  receded  and 
distance  lent  enchantment  to  the  view. 


an 

,  but 
lor    a 
died 
d  on 
'  the 
roing 
was 
••as 
Imore 
and 


"AND  HAN  TO  TUK  Ol'KNING,  WilKllI':  UK  SAW  TliK  TRoOPKKS 
STir.L  HIDING  ABOUT.'— Page  272. 


m 


i 

1 

I 

iitp 


<i(: 


li' 


IP^  ?l 


I!  I 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


273 


When  at  last  the  troops  had  disappeared,  Shank 
bethought  him  of  the  food  which  Huuky  Ben  had 
so  thoughtfully  provided,  and,  sitting  down  on  the 
brush  couch,  devoted  himself  to  breakfast  with  a 
hearty  appetite  and  a  thankful  spirit. 

Meanwhile  Captain  Wilmot,  having  satisfied  him- 
sell  that  the  outlaws  had  fairly  escaped  him,  and 
that  Buck  Tom  was  too  ill  to  be  moved,  retired  to  a 
cool  glade  in  the  forest  and  held  a  council  of  war 
with  the  scout  and  Charlie  Brooke. 

"Now,  Ben,"  he  said,  dismounting  and  seating 
himself  on  a  mossy  bank,  while  a  trooper  took 
charge  of  the  horses  and  retired  with  them  to  a 
neighbouring  knoll,  "  it  is  quite  certain  that  in  the 
present  unsettled  state  of  the  district  I  must  not 
remain  here  idle.  It  is  equally  certain  that  it  would 
be  sudden  death  to  Buck  Tom  to  move  him  in  his 
present  condition,  therefore  some  men  must  be  left 
behind  to  take  care  of  him.  Now,  though  I  can  ill 
afford  to  spare  any  of  mine,  I  feel  that  out  of  mere 
humanity  some  sacrifice  must  be  made,  for  we  can- 
not leave  the  poor  fellow  to  starve." 

"  I  can  relieve  you  on  that  point,"  said  the  scout, 
"  for  if  you  choose  I  am  quite  ready  to  remain." 

"  And  of  course,"  interposed  Charlie,  "  I  feel  it 
my  duty  to  remain  with  my  old  friend  to  the  end." 

"  Well,  I  expected  you  to  say  something  of  this 
sort.  Now,"  said  the  captain,  "how  many  men 
will  you  require  ? " 

S 


f 


ill 


\'M\\ 


lif 


1 

ff 


274 


CIIAULIR  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


"  None  at  all,  Captain,"  answered  Ben  decisively. 

"But  what  if  these  scoundrels  should  return  to 
their  old  haunt  ? "  said  Wilniot. 

"Let  them  come,"  returned  the  scout.  "Wi' 
Mr.  Brooke,  an'  ])'^k  Darvall,  an'  three  Win- 
cii esters,  an'  half-a-diL  ien  six-shooters,  I  'd  engage  to 
hold  the  cave  against  a  score  o'  such  varnnn.  If 
Mr.  Brooke  an'  Dick  are  willin'  to " 

"  I  am  quite  willing,  Ben,  and  I  can  answer  for 
my  friend  Dick,  so  don't  let  that  trouble  you." 

"  Well,  then,  that  is  settled.  I  '11  go  off  at  once," 
said  the  captain,  rising  and  signing  to  the  trooper  to 
bring  up  the  horses.  "But  bear  in  remembrance, 
Hunky  Ben,  that  I  hold  you  responsible  for  Buck 
Tom.     If  he  recovers  you  must  produce  liim." 

The  scout  accepted  the  responsibility ;  the  ar- 
rangements were  soon  made ;  "  boots  and  saddles " 
was  sounded,  and  the  troopers  rode  away  leaving 
Charlie  Brooke,  Dick  Darvall,  Buck  Tom,  and  the 
scout  in  possession  of  the  outlaws'  cave. 


OF  TIIK  SEA  AND  TIIK  UOCUIKS. 


f 

275 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


f 


\   : 


TIIK  MKETINO  OF  OLD  FRIENDS  IN  CURIOUS  CIRCUMSTANCKS. 

When  the  soldiers  were  safely  away  Hunky  Ben 
returned  to  the  cave  and  brought  Leather  down. 

Charlie  Brooke's  love  for  his  old  school-fellow 
and  playmate  seemed  to  become  a  new  passion,  now 
that  the  wreck  of  life  and  limb  presented  by  Shank 
had  awakened  within  him  the  sensation  of  pro- 
found pity.  And  Shank's  admiration  for  and 
devotion  to  Charlie  increased  tenfold  now  that 
the  terrible  barrier  of  self  had  been  so  greatly 
eliminated  from  his  own  nature,  and  a  new  spirit 
put  within  him. 

By  slow  degrees,  and  bit  by  bit,  each  came  to 
know  and  understand  the  other  under  the  influence 
of  new  lights  and  feelings.  But  their  thoughts  about 
themselves,  and  their  joy  at  meeting  in  such  peculiar 
circumstances,  had  to  be  repressed  to  some  extent  in 
the  presence  of  their  common  frien  i  Ealph  Ritson — 
— alias  Buck  Tom — for  Charlie  knew  him  only  as  an 
old  school-fellow,  though  to  Leather  he  had  been  a 
friend  and  chum  ever  since  they  had  landed  in  the 
New  World. 


4\ 


V\ 


N 


\i" 


'B 


V      n] 


III 


'■F, 


-IS, 


27C 


CHARLIE  TO  TJIE  RESCUE  :    A.  TALE 


|!'|- 


i  '■: 


a  I 


The  scout,  during  the  first  interval  of  leisure  on 
the  previous  day,  had  extracted  the  ball  without 
much  difficulty  from  Buck's  chest,  through  wliich 
it  had  passed,  and  was  found  lying  close  under  the 
skin  at  his  back.  The  relief  thus  afforded  and 
rest  obtained  under  the  influence  of  some  medicine 
administered  by  Captain  Wilmot  had  brightened  the 
poor  fellow  up  to  some  extent ;  and  Leather,  seeing 
him  look  so  much  better  on  his  return,  began  to 
entertain  some  hopes  of  his  recovery. 

Buck  himself  had  no  3uch  hope ;  but,  being  a  man 
of  strong  will,  he  refused  to  let  it  be  seen  in  his 
demeanour  that  he  thought  his  case  to  be  hopeless. 
Yet  he  did  not  act  from  bravado,  or  the  slightest 
tincture  of  that  spirit  which  resolves  to  "  die  game." 
The  approach  of  death  had  indeed  torn  away  the 
veil  and  permitted  him  to  see  himself  in  his  true 
colours,  but  he  did  not  at  that  time  see  Jesus  to 
be  the  Saviour  of  even  "the  chief  of  sinners." 
Therefore  his  hopelessness  took  the  form  of  silent 
submission  to  the  inevitable. 

Of  course  Charlie  Brooke  spoke  to  him  more  than 
once  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ,  and  of  the  dying 
thief  who  had  looked  to  Jesus  on  the  cross  and 
was  saved,  but  Buck  only  shook  his  head.  One 
afternoon  in  particular  Charlie  tried  hard  to  remove 
the  poor  man's  perplexities. 

"  It 's  all  very  well,  Brooke,"  said  Buck  Tom, "  and 
very  kind  of  you  to  interest  yourself  in  me,  but 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


277 


to 


and 
but 


the  love  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  Christ  are 
not  for  me.  You  don't  know  what  a  sinner  I 
have  been,  a  rebel  all  my  life — all  my  life,  mark 
you.  I  would  count  it  mean  to  come  whining  for 
pardon  now  that  the  game  is  up.  I  deserve  hell — or 
whatever  sort  o'  punishment  is  due — an'  I  'm  willing 
to  take  it." 

"  Ealph  Kitson,"  said  Brooke  impressively,  "  you 
are  a  far  greater  sinner  than  you  think  or  admit." 

"  Perhaps  I  am,"  returned  the  outlaw  sadly,  and 
with  a  slight  expression  of  surprise.  "Perhaps  I 
am,"  he  repeated.  "Indeed  I  admit  that  you  are 
right,  but — but  your  saying  so  is  a  somewhat  strange 
way  to  comfort  a  dying  man.     Is  it  not  ? " 

"  I  am  oiot  trying  to  comfort  you.  I  am  trying, 
by  God's  grace,  to  convince  you.  You  tell  me  that 
you  have  been  a  rebel  all  your  days  ? " 

"  Yes ;  I  admit  it." 

"  There  are  still,  it  may  be,  a  few  days  yet  to  run, 
and  you  are  determined,  it  seems,  to  spend  these 
in  rebellion  too — up  to  the  very  end !" 

"  Nay,  I  do  not  say  that.  Have  I  not  said  that  I 
mhmit  to  whatever  punishment  is  due  ?  Surely  that 
is  not  rebellion.  I  can  do  nothing  now  to  make 
up  for  a  misspent  life,  so  I  am  willing  to  accept 
the  consequences.  Is  not  that  submission  to  God — 
at  least  as  far  as  lies  in  my  power  ? " 

"  No ;  it  is  not  submission.  Bear  with  me  when  I 
say  it  is  rebellion,  still  deeper  rebellion  than  ever. 


Ili 


Hi 


278 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :  A  TALE 


I'-i 


li. 


God  says  to  you,  *  You  have  destroyed  yourself  but 
in  me  is  your  help.'  He  says,  *  Though  your  sins  be 
as  scarlet  they  shall  be  wh'*;e  as  snow.'  He  says, 
*  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  you  shall  be 
saved,'  and  assures  you  that  'whoever  will*  may 
come  to  Him,  and  that  no  one  who  comes  shall 
be  cast  out — yet  in  the  face  of  all  that  you  tell 
me  that  the  love  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  Christ 
are  not  for  you !  Ealph,  my  friend,  you  think  that  if 
you  had  a  chance  of  living  your  life  over  again  you 
would  do  better  and  so  deserve  salvation.  That 
is  exactly  what  God  tells  us  we  cannot  do,  and  then 
He  tells  us  that  Himself,  in  Jesus  Christ,  has  pro- 
vided salvation  from  sin  for  us,  offers  it  as  a  free 
unmerited  gift;  and  immediately  we  dive  to  the 
deepest  depth  of  sin  by  deliberately  refusing  this 
deliverance  from  sin  unless  we  can  somehow  manage 
to  deserve  it." 

"  I  cannot  see  it,"  said  the  wounded  man  thought- 
fully. 

"  Only  God  Himself,  by  His  Holy  Spirit,  can 
enable  you  to  see  it,"  said  his  companion ;  and  then, 
in  a  low  earnest  voice,  with  eyes  closed  and  his 
hand  on  his  friend's  arm,  ho  prayed  that  the  outlaw 
might  be  "  born  again." 

Charlie  Brooke  was  not  one  of  those  who  make 
long  prayers,  either  "  for  a  pretence  "  or  otherwise. 
Buck  Tom  smiled  slightly  when  his  friend  stopped 
at  the  end  of  Uiis  one  sentence. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


279 


"  Your  prayer  is  not  long-winded,  anyhow ! "  he 
said. 

"  True,  Ealph,  but  it  is  comprehensive.  It  requires 
a  good  deal  of  expounding  and  explaining  to  make 
man  understand  what  we  say  or  think.  The  Al- 
mighty needs  none  of  that.  Indeed  He  does  not 
need  even  the  asking,  but  He  bids  us  ask,  and  that  is 
enough  for  me.  I  have  seen  enough  of  life  to  under- 
stand the  value  of  unquestioring  obedience  whether 
one  comprehends  the  reason  of  an  order  or  not." 

"  Ay,"  returned  Buck  quickly,  "  when  he  who 
gives  the  order  has  a  right  to  command." 

"That  is  so  much  a  matter  of  course,"  rejoined 
Charlie,  "  that  I  would  not  think  of  referring  to  it 
while  conversing  with  an  intelligent  man.  By  the 
way — which  name  would  you  like  to  be  called,  by 
Ealph  or  Buck  ? " 

"It  matters  little  to  me,"  returned  the  outlaw 
languidly,  "and  it  won't  matter  to  anybody  long. 
I  should  prefer  '  Ealph,'  for  it  is  not  associated  with 
so  much  evil  as  the  other,  but  you  know  our  circum- 
r  "lances  are  peculiar  just  now,  so,  all  things  considered, 
I  had  better  remain  Buck  Tom  to  the  end  of  the 
chapter.  I'll  answer  to  whichever  name  comes 
first  when  the  roll  is  called  in  the  next  world." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  at  this  point  by 
the  entrance  of  Hunky  Ben  bearing  a  deer  on  his 
lusty  shoulders.     He  was  followed  by  Dick  Darvall. 

"  There,"  said  the  former,  t'lrowin;:;  the  carcass  on 


ill 


'i'iil 


.1", 


i .'    '  • 


Mi 


[i  ■,#- 


(fv 


II  E! 


I 


( 


280 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:   A  TALE 


the  floor,  "  I  told  ye  I  wouldn't  be  long  o'  bringin* 
in  somethin'  for  the  pot." 

"Ay,  an'  the  way  he  shot  it  too,"  said  the 
seaman,  laying  aside  his  rifle,  "would  have  made 
even  a  monkey  stare  with  astonishment.  Has 
Leather  come  back,  by  the  way  ?  I  see'd  him 
goin'  full  sail  through  the  woods  when  I  went  out 
this  mornin'." 

"  He  has  not  yet  returned,"  said  Charlie.  "  When 
I  relieved  him  and  sat  down  to  watch  by  our  friend 
here,  he  said  he  felt  so  much  better  and  stronger 
that  he  would  take  his  gun  and  see  if  he  couldn't 
find  something  for  the  pot.  I  advised  him  not  to 
trust  his  feelings  too  much,  and  not  to  go  far,  but — 
ah,  here  he  comes  to  answer  for  himself." 

As  he  spoke  a  step  was  heard  outside,  and  next 
moment  Shank  entered,  carrying  a  brace  of  rabbits 
which  he  flung  down,  and  then  threw  himself  on  a 
couch  in  a  state  of  considerable  exhaustion. 

"There,"  said  he,  wiping  the  perspiration  from 
his  forehead.  "  They  've  cost  me  more  trouble  than 
they're  worth,  for  I'm  quite  done  up.  I  had  no 
idea  I  had  become  so  weak  in  the  legs.  Ealpli,  my 
dear  fellow,"  he  added,  forgetting  himself  for  the 
moment  as  he  rose  and  went  to  his  friend's  side, 
"  I  have  more  sympathy  with  you,  nov/  that  I  have 
found  out  the  extent  of  my  own  weakness.  Do  you 
feel  better?" 

"  Yes,  old  boy — much — much  better." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


281 


"That's  all  right.  I'm  convinced  that — hallo! 
why,  who  shot  the  deer  ? " 

"  Hunky  Ben  has  beat  you,"  said  Charlie. 

"Beat  Leather!"  exclaimed  Darvall,  "why,  he 
beats  all  creation.  I  never  see'd  anything  like  it 
since  I  went  to  sea." 

"Since  you  came  ashore,  you  should  say.  But 
come,  Dick,"  said  Charlie,  "let's  hear  about  this 
wonderful  shooting.  I  'm  sure  it  will  amuse  Buck 
— unless  he 's  too  wearied  to  listen." 

"  Let  him  talk,"  said  the  invalid.  "  I  like  to  hear 
him." 

Thus  exhorted  and  encouraged  the  seaman  re- 
counted his  day's  experience. 

"  Well,  you  must  know,  messmates,"  said  he,  "  that 
I  set  sail  alone  this  mornin',  havin'  in  my  pocket 
the  small  compass  I  always  carry  about  me — also 
my  bearin's  before  startin',  so  as  I  shouldn't  go  lost 
in  the  woods — though  that  wouldn't  be  likely  in 
such  an  narrow  inlet  as  this  Traitor's  Trap,  to  say 
nothin'  o'  the  landmarks  alow  and  aloft  of  all  sorts. 
I  carried  a  Winchester  with  me,  because,  not  bein' 
what  you  may  call  a  crack  shot,  I  thought  it  would 
give  me  a  better  chance  to  have  a  lot  o'  resarve  shots 
in  the  locker,  d'  ye  see  ?  I  carried  also  a  six-shooter, 
as  it  might  come  handy,  you  know,  if  I  fell  in  wi'  a 
Redskin  or  a  bear,  an'  got  to  close  quarters.  Also 
cutlass,  for  I've  bin  used  to  that  aboard  ship 


my 

when  I  was  in  the 


m 


{ 


navy, 


j ' 


282 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


>  : 


i.  t 


"  Well,  away  I  went — makin'  sail  down  the  valley 
to  begin  with,  an'  then  a  long  tack  into  the  moun- 
tains right  in  the  wind's  eye,  that  bein'  the  way  to 
get  on  the  blind  side  o'  game.  I  hadn't  gone  far 
when  up  starts  a  bird  o'  some  sort " 

"  What  like  was  it  ? "  asked  the  scout. 

"No  more  notion  than  the  man  in  the  moon," 
returned  the  sailor.  "What  wi'  the  flutter  an' 
scurry  an'  leaves,  branches  an'  feathers — an'  the 
start — I  see'd  nothin'  clear,  an'  I  was  so  anxious  to 
git  somethin'  for  the  pot,  that  six  shots  went  arter 
it  out  o'  the  Winchester,  before  I  was  quite  sure  I  'd 
begun  to  fire — for  you  must  know  I  've  larned  to 
fire  uncommon  fast  since  I  come  to  these  parts. 
Hows'ever,  I  hit  nothin' " 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,  Dick,"  interrupted  the 
scout  gravely. 

"  Well,  that 's  true,  but  you  better  tell  that  part 
of  it  yourself,  Hunky,  as  you  know  more  about  it 
than  me." 

"  It  wasn't  of  much  consequence,"  said  the  scout, 
betraying  the  slightest  possible  twinkle  in  his  grey 
eyes,  "  but  Dick  has  a  knack  o'  lettin'  drive  without 
much  regard  to  what 's  in  front  of  him.  I  happened 
to  be  more  in  front  of  him  than  that  bird  when  he 
begnn  to  fire,  an'  the  first  shot  hit  my  right  leggiu', 
but  by  good  luck  only  grazed  the  bark.  Of  course 
I  dropped  behind  a  rock  when  the  storm  began  and 
lay  quiet  there,  and  when  a  lull  came  I  halloo'd." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


283 


med 

lie 

iui', 


' 


"Yes,  he  did  halloo,"  said  Dick,  resuming  the 
narrative,  "  an'  that  halloo  was  more  like  the  yell  of 
a  bull  of  Bashan  than  the  cry  of  a  mortal  man.  It 
made  my  heart  jump  into  my  throat  an'  stick  there, 
for  I  thought  I  must  have  killed  a  whole  Redskin 
tribe  at  one  shot " 

"  Six  shots,  Dick.  Tell  the  exact  truth  an'  don't 
contradic'  yourself,"  said  Hunky. 

"  No,  it  wasn't,"  retorted  the  seaman  stoutly.  "  It 
was  arter  the  first  shot  that  you  gave  the  yell. 
Hows'ever,  I  allow  that  the  echoes  kep'  it  goin'  till 
the  six  shots  was  off — an'  I  can  tell  you,  messmates, 
that  the  hallooin'  an'  flutterin'  an'  scurryin'  an' 
echoin'  an'  thought  of  Redskins  in  my  brain  all 
mixed  up  wi'  the  blatterin'  shots,  caused  such  a 
rumpus  that  I  experienced  considerable  relief  when 
the  smoke  cleared  away  an'  I  see'd  Hunky  Ben  in 
front  o'  me  laughin'  fit  to  bu'st  his  sides." 

"Well,  to  make  a  long  yarn  short,  I  joined 
Hunky  and  allowed  him  to  lead,  seein'  tljat  he  un- 
derstands the  navigation  hereaway  better  than  me." 

"  *  Come  along,'  says  he,  *  an'  I  '11  let  you  have  a 
chance  at  a  deer.' 

"'All  right,'  says  I,  an'  away  we  went  up  one 
hill  an'  down  another — for  all  the  world  as  if  we 
was  walkin'  over  a  heavy  Atlantic  swell — till  we 
come  to  a  sort  o'  pass  among  the  rocks. 

" '  I  'm  goin'  to  leave  you  here  to  watch,'  says  he, 
*  an'  I  '11  go  round  by  the  f  utt  o'  the  gully  an'  drive 


i  ^' 


.Mw 


m 


]t.! 

'i   '.  ' 


- 


t|.,_. 


'f?; 


m   - 

■i 

ilil 

r 

III  ^ 

'  , 

■  ■  ■ 

>)'  . 

Mtt'  -.' 

HBi^^H|l' 

1 11  i- 

^^■1 

ill  If' 

284 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


the  deer  up.  They'll  pass  quite  close,  so  you've 
only  to ' 

"Hunky  stopped  short  as  he  was  speakin'  and 
flopped  down  as  if  he  'd  bin  shot — haulin'  me  along 
wi'  him. 

" '  Keep  quiet,'  says  he,  in  a  low  voice.  *  We  're 
in  luck,  an*  don't  need  to  drive.  There's  a  deer 
comin'  up  at  this  very  minute — a  young  one.  You  '11 
take  it.     I  won't  fire  unless  you  miss.* 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  kep'  quiet,  messmates,  arter 
that.  I  took  just  one  peep,  an*  there,  sure  enough, 
I  saw  a  brown  beast  comin'  up  the  pass.  So  we 
kep'  close  as  mice.  There  was  a  lot  o'  small  bushes 
not  ten  yards  in  front  of  us,  which  ended  in  a  cut 
— a  sort  0*  crack — in  the  hill-side,  a  hundred  yards 
or  more  from  the  place  where  we  was  crouchin'. 

"  *  Now,'  whispers  Hunky  to " 

"  I  never  whisper  ! "  remarked  the  scout. 

"  Well,  well ;  he  said,  in  a  low  v'ice  to  me,  says 
he, '  d'  ye  see  that  openin'  in  the  bushes  ? '  *  I  do,* 
says  I.  *  Well  then,'  says  he,  *  it 's  about  ten  yards 
off ;  be  ready  to  commence  firin'  when  it  comes  to 
that  openin*.'  *I  will,'  says  I.  An',  sure  enough, 
when  the  brown  critter  came  for'id  at  a  walk  an' 
stopped  sudden  wi'  a  look  o'  surprise  as  if  it  hadn't 
expected  to  see  me,  bang  went  my  Winchester  four 
times,  like  winkin',  an'  up  went  the  deer  four  times 
in  the  air,  but  niver  a  bit  the  worse  was  he.  Snap 
I  went  a  fifth  time ;  but  there  was  no  shot,  an'  I 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


285 


Is 
to 


es 


gave  a  yell,  for  I  knew  the  cartridges  was  done.  By 
that  time  the  critter  had  reached  the  crack  in  the 
hill  I  told  ye  of,  an'  up  in  the  air  he  went  to  clear 
it,  like  an  Indy-rubber  ball.  I  felt  a'most  like  to 
fling  my  rifle  at  it  in  my  rage,  when  bang !  went  a 
shot  at  my  ear  that  all  but  deaf  ned  me,  an'  I  wish 
I  may  niver  fire  another  shot  or  furl  another 
t'gallant-s'l  if  that  deer  didn't  crumple  up  in  the 
air  an'  drop  down  stone  dead — as  dead  as  it  now 
lays  there  on  the  floor." 

By  the  time  Dick  Darvall  had  ended  his  narrative 
— which  was  much  more  extensive  than  our  report 
of  it — steaks  of  the  deer  were  sputtering  in  a  fry- 
ing-pan, and  other  preparations  were  being  made 
for  a  hearty  meal,  to  which  all  the  healthy  men 
did  ample  justice.  Shank  Leather  did  what  he 
could,  and  even  Buck  Tom  made  a  feeble  attempt 
to  join. 

That  night  a  strict  watch  was  kept  outside  the 
cave — each  taking  it  by  turns,  for  n,  was  just 
possible,  though  not  probable,  that  the  outlaws 
might  return  to  their  old  haunt.  No  one  appeared, 
however,  and  for  the  succeeding  eight  weeks  the 
party  remained  there  undisturbed.  Shank  Leather 
slowly  but  surely  regaining  strength ;  his  friend. 
Buck  Tom,  as  slowly  and  surely  losing  it;  while 
Charlie,  Dick,  and  Hunky  Ben  ranged  the  neighbour- 
ing forest  in  order  to  procure  food.  Leather  usually 
remained  in  the  cave  to  cook  for  and  nurse  his 


liii 


Hi' 

■  :.■■'  'I 

V. 


1  f 


28G 


CHARLIE  TO  TIIK  RESCUE:   A  TALE 


friend.  It  was  pleasant  work  to  Shank,  for  love 
and  pity  were  at  the  foundation  of  the  service. 
Buck  Tom  perceived  this  and  fully  appreciated  it. 
Perchance  he  obtained  some  valuable  light  on 
spiritual  subjects  from  Shank's  changed  tone  and 
manner,  which  the  logic  of  his  friend  Brooke  had 
failed  to  convey.     Who  can  tell  ? 


I . 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  UOCKIES. 


287 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


snows  UOW  THE  SKAMAN   WAS  SENT  ON   A  DKLICATE  MISSION 
AND  HOW  HE  FARED. 


ting 


"  SiiANK,"  said  Charlie  one  day  as  they  were  sit- 
in  the  sunshine  near  the  outlaws'  cave, 
waiting  for  Dick  and  the  scout  to  return  to  their 
mid-day  meal,  "it  seems  to  me  that  we  may  be 
detained  a  good  while  here,  for  we  cannot  leave 
lialph,  and  it  is  evident  that  the  poor  fellow  won't 
be  able  to  travel  for  many  a  day " 

"  If  ever,"  interposed  Shank  sorrowfully. 

"Well,  then,  I  think  we  must  send  down  to 
Bull's  Eanch,  to  see  if  there  are  any  letters  for  us. 
I  feel  sure  that  there  must  be  some,  and  the 
question  arises — who  are  we  to  send  ? " 

"  You  must  not  go,  Charlie,  whoever  goes.  You 
are  the  only  link  in  this  mighty  wilderness,  that 
connects  Ealph  and  me  with  home — and  hope. 
Weak  and  helpless  as  we  are,  we  cannot  afford  to 
let  you  out  of  our  sight." 

"Well,  but  if  I  don't  go  I  can't  see  my  way 
to  asking  the  scout  to  go,  for  he  alone  thoroughly 
understands  the  ways  of  the  country  and  of  the 


I  t    ' 


if 


_ 

1        < 

.- 

! 
I 

288 


CIIAULIK  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


Indians — if  any  should  chance  to  come  this  way. 
Besides,  considering  the  pledge  he  is  under  to  be 
accountable  for  Buck  Tom,  I  doubt  if  he  would 
consent  to  go." 

"The  question  is  answered,  then,"  said  Shank, 
"  for  the  only  other  man  is  Dick  Darvall." 

"  True ;  and  it  strikes  me  that  Dick  will  be  very 
glad  to  go,"  returned  Charlie  with  a  smile  of  pecu- 
liar meaning. 

"  D'  ye  think  he 's  getting  tired  of  us,  Charlie  ? " 

"  By  no  means.  But  you  know  he  has  a  roving 
disposition,  and  I  think  he  has  a  sort  of  fondness 
for  Jackson — the  boss  of  the  ranch." 

It  was  found  when  the  question  was  put  to  him, 
that  Dick  was  quite  ready  to  set  out  on  the  mission 
required  of  him.  He  also  admitted  his  fondness  for 
Roaring  Bull ! 

"  But  what  if  you  should  lose  your  way  ? " 
asked  the  scout. 

"  Find  it  again,"  was  Dick's  prompt  reply. 

"  And  what  if  you  should  be  attacked  by  Indians?" 

"  Fight 'em,  of  course." 

"  But  if  they  should  be  too  many  to  "ight  ? " 

"  Why,  clap  on  all  sail  an'  give  'em  i  starn  chase, 
which  is  always  a  long  one.  For  this  purpose,  how- 
ever, I  would  have  to  command  a  good  craft,  so  I  'd 
expect  you  to  lend  me  yours,  Hunky  Ben." 

"What!  my  Polly?" 

"Even  so.     Black  Polly." 


lase, 

to\v- 
il'd 


OF  TIIK  SEA  AND  THE  UOCKIES. 


289 


The  scout  received  this  proposal  gravely,  and 
shook  his  head  at  first,  for  he  was  naturally  fond  of 
his  beautiful  mare,  and,  besides,  doubted  the 
sailor's  horseniansliip,  though  he  had  perfect  faith 
in  his  courage  and  discretion.  Finally,  however,  he 
gave  in;  and  accordingly,  one  tine  morning  at  day- 
break, Dick  Darvall,  mounted  on  Black  Polly,  and 
armed  with  his  favourite  "Winchester,  revolvers,  and 
cutlass,  "  set  sail "  down  Traitor's  Trap  to  visit  his 
lady-love ! 

Of  course  he  knew  that  his  business  was  to  obtain 
letters  and  gather  news.  But  honest  Dick  Darvall 
could  not  conceal  from  himself  that  his  main  object 
was — Mary  Jackson  ! 

Somehow  it  has  come  to  be  supposed  or  assumed 
that  a  jack- tar  cannot  ride.  Possibly  this  may  be 
true  of  the  class  as  a  whole  to  which  Jack  belongs, 
but  it  is  not  necessarily  true  of  all,  and  it  certainly 
is  not  true  of  some.  Dick  Darvall  was  an  expert 
horseman — though  a  sailor.  He  had  learned  to  ride 
when  a  boy,  before  going  to  sea,  and  his  after- 
habit  of  riding  the  "  white  horses  "  of  the  Norseman, 
did  not  cause  him  to  forget  the  art  of  managing  the 
"  buckers  "  of  the  American  plains.  To  use  his  own 
words,  he  felt  as  much  at  home  on  the  hurricane 
deck  of  a  Spanish  pony,  as  on  the  fo'c'sl  of  a  man- 
of-war,  so  that  the  scout's  doubt  of  his  capacity  as  a 
rider  was  not  well  founded. 

Tremendous  was  the  bound  of  exultation  which 

T 


} 


I'.ii'i 


i 


290 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


fi.)' 


our  seaman  felt,  then,  when  he  found  himself 
on  the  magnificent  black  mare,  with  the  fresh 
morning  air  fanning  his  temples,  and  the  bright 
sun    frlintinff     through    a    cut    in     the 


morning 


eastern  range. 


Soon  he  reached  the  lower  end  of  the  valley, 
■wlil'jh  being  steep  he  had  descended  with  tightened 
rein.  Or  reaching  the  open  prairie  he  gave  the 
mare  her  head  and  went  off  with  a  wild  whoop  like 
an  arrow  from  a  bow. 

Black  Polly  required  neither  spur  nor  whip. 
She  possessed  that  charmingly  sensitive  spirit  which 
seems  to  receive  an  electric  shock  from  its  rider's 
lightest  chirp.  She  was  what  you  may  call  an  anxi- 
ously willing  steed,  yet  possessed  such  a  tender 
mouth  that  she  could  be  pulled  up  as  easily  as  she 
could  be  made  to  go.  A  mere  child  could  have 
ridden  her,  and  Dick  found  in  a  few  minutes  that 
a  slight  check  was  necessary  to  prevent  her  scour- 
ing over  the  plains  at  racing  speed.  He  restrained 
her,  therefore,  to  a  grand  canter,  with  many  a  stride 
and  bound  interspersed,  when  such  a  thing  as  a  rut 
or  a  little  bush  came  in  her  way. 

With  arched  iieck^  glistening  eyes,  voluminous 
mane,  and  flowing  tail  she  flew  onward,  hour  after 
hour,  with  many  a  playful  shake  of  the  head,  and 
an  occasional  snort,  as  though  to  say  "  This  is  mere 
child's  play ;  do  let  me  put  on  a  spurt ! " 

It  may  not  be  fair  to  credit  such  a  noble  creature 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


291 


iuous 
after 
and 
I  mere 

laturc 


with  talking,  or  ev(;n  thinking,  slang,  but  Dick 
Darvall  clearly  uuder?itood  her  to  say  something  of 
the  sort,  for  after  a  while  he  reduced  speed  to  a 
kind  of  india-rubber  walk  and  patted  her  neck, 
saying— 

"  No,  no,  lass,  you  mustn't  use  up  your  strength 
at  the  beginning.  We've  got  a  longish  trip  before 
us,  Polly,  an'  it  won't  do  to  clap  on  all  sail  at  the 
beginnin'  of  the  voyage." 

At  David's  store  Dick  stopped  for  a  short  time  to 
obtain  a  little  refreshment  for  himself  and  Polly. 
There  he  found  a  group  of  cow-boys  discussing  the 
affairs  of  their  neighbours,  and  enlarging  noisily 
on  things  in  general  under  the  brain-clearing  and 
reason-inspiring  influence  of  strong  drink  !  To  these 
he  recounted  briefly  the  incidents  of  the  recent  raid 
of  the  troops  into  Traitor's  Trap,  and  learned  tliat 
Jake  the  Flint  had  "drifted  south  into  Mexico 
where  he  was  plying  the  trade  of  cattle  and  horse 
stealer,  with  the  usual  accompaniments  of  that  pro- 
fession— fighting,  murdering,  drinking,  etc."  Some 
of  the  deeds  of  this  notorious  outlaw,  as  narrated  by 
the  cow-boy  Crux,  who  happened  to  be  there,  made 
the  blood  of  Dick  run  cold — and  Dick's  blood  was 
not  easily  made  to  run  otherwise  than  naturally  by 
any  one — except,  of  course,  by  Mary  Jackson,  who 
could  at  all  events  make  it  run  hot,  also  fast  or  slow, 
very  much  according  to  her  own  sweet  will ! 

But  the  seaman  had  no  time  to  lose.     He  had 


I 


II 


i  \ 


M-» 


292 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCJE  :   A  TALE 


if 

i." 


i  m!  ■ 


pil 


still  a  long  way  to  go,  and  the  day  was  advancing. 
Eemounting  Black  Polly  he  was  soon  out  again  on 
the  prairie,  sweeping  over  the  grassy  waves  and 
down  into  the  hollows  with  a  feeling  of  hilarious 
jollity,  that  was  born  of  high  health,  good-nature, 
pleasant  circumstances,  and  a  free-and-easy  mind. 

Nothing  worthy  of  particular  notice  occurred  after 
this  to  mar  the  pleasure  of  our  sailor's  "voyage" 
over  the  prairie  until  he  reached  a  belt  of  woodland, 
through  which  for  half  a  mile  he  had  to  travel. 
Here  he  drew  rein  and  began  to  traverse  the  bit  of 
forest  at  a  quiet  amble,  partly  to  rest  Polly,  and 
partly  that  he  might  more  thoroughly  enjoy  the 
woodland  scenery  through  the  umbrageous  canopy 
of  which  the  sun  was  sending  his  slanting  rays  and 
covering  the  sward  with  a  confused  chequer-work  of 
green  and  gold. 

And  here  Dick  Darvall  became  communicative ; 
entered  into  conversation,  so  to  speak,  with  himself. 
After  a  few  minutes,  however,  this  did  not  prove  a 
sufficient  outlet  to  his  exuberant  spirits. 

"  Come,  Dick,"  he  exclaimed,  "  give  us  a  song. 
Your  voice  ain't,  perhaps,  much  to  speak  of  as  to 
quality,  but  there 's  no  end  of  quantity.  Strike  up, 
now ;  what  shall  it  be  ? " 

Without  replying  to  the  question  he  struck  up 
"Eule  Britannia"  in  tones  that  did  not  justify  his 
disparaging  remark  as  to  quality.  He  reached  the 
other  end  of  the  wood  and  the  end  of  the  sonrr  at 


to 
up, 

up 

Ids 

the 

p-  at 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


293 


I 


the  same  time.  "  Britons,"  shouted  he  with  un- 
alterable determination — 

"  Never,  never,  ne — ver,  shall  be — Eedskins ! " 

This  unnatural  termination  was  not  an  intentional 
variation.  It  was  the  result  of  a  scene  that  sud- 
denly burst  upon  his  view. 

Far  away  on  the  prairie  two  riders  were  seen 
racing  at  what  he  would  have  styled  a  slant  away 
from  him.  They  were  going  at  a  pace  that  suggested 
fleeing  for  life. 

"Eedskins — arter  somethin',"  murmured  Dick,  pull- 
ing up,  and  shading  his  eyes  from  the  sun  with  his 
right  hand,  as  he  gazed  earnestly  at  the  two  riders. 

"No — n — no.  They're  whites,"  he  continued, 
"  one  o'  them  a  man  ;  t'other  a  woman.  I  can  make 
that  out,  anyhow." 

As  he  spoke,  the  racing  riders  topped  a  far-off 
knoll ;  halted,  and  turned  round  as  if  to  gaze  back 
towards  the  north— the  direction  from  which  they 
had  come.  Then,  wheeling  round  as  if  in  greater 
haste  than  ever,  they  continued  their  headlong  gaHop 
and  disappeared  on  the  other  side  of  the  knoll. 

Dick  naturally  turned  towards  the  north  to  see, 
if  possible,  what  the  two  riders  were  flying  from. 
He  was  not  kept  long  in  doubt,  for  just  then  a  band 
of  horsemen  was  seen  topping  the  farthest  ridge  in 
that  direction,  and  bearing  down  on  the  belt  of 
woodland,  along  the  edge  of  which  they  galloped 
towards  him. 


I 


294 


CHAKLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


There  was  no  mistaking  who  they  were.  The 
war-whoop,  sounding  faint  and  shrill  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  the  wild  gesticulations  of  the  riders,  told 
the  story  at  once  to  our  seaman — two  pale-faces, 
pursued  by  a  band  of  bloodthirsty  savages ! 

Unskilled  though  he  was  in  backwoods  warfare, 
Dick  was  not  unfamiliar  with  war's  alarms,  nor  was 
he  wanting  in  common  sense.  To  side  with  the 
weaker  par*-'  was  a  natural  tendency  in  our  sea- 
man. That  the  pursuers  were  red,  and  the  pursued 
white,  strengthened  the  tendency,  and  the  fact  that 
one  of  the  latter  was  a  woman  settled  the  question. 
Instantly  Dick  shook  the  reins,  drove  his  unarmed 
heels  against  the  sides  of  Polly,  and  away  they  went 
after  the  fugitives  like  a  black  thunderbolt,  if  there 
be  such  artillery  in  nature ! 

A  wild  yell  told  him  that  he  was  seen. 

"Howl  away,  ye  land  lubbers!"  growled  Dick. 
"  You  '11  have  to  fill  your  sails  wi'  a  stiffer  breeze 
than  howlin'  before  ye  overhaul  this  here  craft." 

Just  then  he  reached  the  crest  of  a  prairie  billow, 
whence  he  could  see  the  fugitives  still  far  ahead  of 
him.  Suddenly  a  suspicion  entered  the  seaman's 
mind,  which  made  his  heart  almost  choke  him. 
What  if  this  should  be  Mary  Jackson  and  her 
father  ?  Their  relative  size  countenanced  the  id  Da, 
for  the  womon  seemed  small  and  the  man  unusually 
large. 

In  desperate  haste  Dick  now  urged  on  his  gallant 


mm 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


295 


steed  to  her  best  pace,  and  well  did  she  justify  the 
praises  that  had  been  often  bestowed  on  her  by 
liunky  Ben.  In  a  very  brief  space  of  time  she 
was  close  behind  the  fugitives,  and  Dick  was  now 
convinced  that  his  suspicions  as  to  who  they  were 
was  right.  He  rode  after  them  with  divided  feel- 
ings— tremblingly  anxious  lest  Mary  should  fall 
into  the  hands  of  their  ruthless  foes — exultantly 
glad  that  he  had  come  there  in  time  to  fight,  or  die 
if  need  be,  in  her  defence. 

Suddenly  the  male  fugitive,  who  had  only  glanced 
over  his  shoulder  from  time  to  time,  pulled  up, 
wheeled  round,  and  quickly  raised  his  rifle. 

"  Hallo !  get  on,  man ;  don't  stop !"  Dick  yelled, 
in  a  voice  worthy  of  Bull  himself.  Taking  off  his 
hat  he  waved  it  violently  above  his  head.  As  he 
spoke  he  saw  the  woman's  arm  flash  upwards;  a 
puff  of  smoke  followed,  and  a  bullet  whistled  close 
over  his  head. 

Next  moment  the  fugitives  had  turned  and  re- 
sumed their  headlong  flight,  A  few  more  minutes 
sufficed  to  bring  Dick  and  the  black  mare  alongside, 
for  the  latter  was  still  vigorous  in  wind  and  limb, 
while  the  poor  jaded  animals  which  Mary  and  her 
father  rode  were  almost  worn  out  by  a  prolonged 
flight. 

"  Dick  Darvall,"  exclaimed  Jackson,  as  the  former 
rode  up,  "  I  never  was  gladder  to  see  any  man  than 
I  am  to  see  you  this  hour,  though  but  for  my  Mary 


!      Ill 


^:ii 


i\H 


296 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


i: 


\\\i 


I  'd  surely  have  sent  you  to  kingdom  come.  Her 
ears  are  better  than  mine,  you  see.  She  recognised 
the  voice  an'  knocked  up  my  rifle  just  as  I  pulled 
the  trigger.     But  I  'm  afeared  it 's  too  late,  lad." 

The  way  in  which  the  man  said  this,  and  the  look 
of  his  pale  haggard  face,  sent  a  thrill  to  the  heart 
of  Dick. 

"  What  d'ye  mean  ? "  he  said,  looking  anxiously 
at  Mary,  who  with  a  set  rigid  expression  on  her  pale 
face  was  looking  straight  before  her,  and  urging  her 
tired  pony  with  switch  and  rein. 

"  I  mean,  lad,  that  we  've  but  a  poor  chance  to 
reach  the  ranch  wi'  such  knocked-up  brutes  as 
these.  Of  course  we  can  turn  at  bay  an'  kill  as 
many  o'  the  red-devils  as  possible  before  it 's  all 
over  wi'  us,  but  what  good  would  that  do  to  Mary  ? 
If  we  could  only  check  the  varmins,  there  might  be 
some  hope,  but " 

"  Jackson ! "  exclaimed  the  seaman,  in  a  firm  tone, 
"  I  '11  do  my  best  to  check  them.  God  bless  you, 
Mary — good-bye.     Heave  ahead,  now,  full  swing ! " 

As  he  spoke,  Dick  pulled  up,  while  the  others  con- 
tinued their  headlong  flight  straight  for  the  ranch, 
which  was  by  that  time  only  a  few  miles  distant. 

Wheeling  round,  Dick  cantered  back  to  the  knoll 
over  which  they  had  just  passed  and  halted  on  the 
top  of  it.  From  this  position  he  could  see  the  band, 
of  about  fifty  Indians,  careering  towards  him  and 
yelling  with  satisfaction,  for  they  could  also  see 


and 
see 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  ROCKIKS. 


20' 


him — a  solitary  horseman — clear  cut  against  the 
bright  skv. 

Dick  got  ready  his  repeating  rifle.  "We  have 
already  mentioned  the  fact  that  he  had  learned  to 
load  and  fire  this  formidable  weapon  with  great 
rapidity,  though  he  had  signally  failed  in  his  attempts 
to  aim  with  it.  Being  well  aware  of  his  weakness, 
he  made  up  his  mind  in  liis  present  desperate  ex- 
tremity not  to  aim  at  all !  He  had  always  felt  that 
the  difficulty  of  getting  the  back  and  front  sights 
of  the  rifle  to  correspond  with  the  object  aimed  at 
was  a  slow,  and,  in  his  case,  an  impossible  process. 
He  therefore  resolved  to  simply  point  his  weapon 
and  fire ! 

"Surely,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  even  in  that 
trying  moment,  "  surely  I  can't  altogether  miss  a 
whole  bunch  o'  fifty  men  an'  horses  ! " 

He  waited  until  he  tliought  the  savages  were 
within  long  range,  and  then,  elevating  his  piece  a 
little,  fired. 

The  result  justified  his  hopes.  A  horse  fell  dead 
upon  the  plain,  and  its  owner,  although  evidently 
unwounded,  was  for  the  time  liors  de  combat. 

True  to  his  plan,  Dick  kept  up  such  a  quick  con- 
tinuous fire,  and  made  so  much  noise  and  smoke, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  a  whole  company  of  riflemen  were 
at  work  instead  of  one  man,  and  several  horses  on 
the  plain  testified  to  the  success  of  the  pointing  as 
compared  with  the  aiming  principle ! 


;'!! 


m 


W 


1 

1                i  ! 

I 


'il 


298 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:   A  TALE 


Of  course  the  fire  was  partly  returned,  and  for  a 
time  the  stout  seaman  was  under  a  pretty  heavy 
rain  of  bullets,  but  as  the  savages  fired  while  gallop- 
ing their  aim  was  necessarily  bad. 

This  fusillade  had  naturally  the  effect  of  checking 
the  advance  of  the  Indians — especially  when  they 
drew  near  to  the  reckless  man,  who,  when  the  snap 
of  his  rifle  told  that  his  last  cartridge  was  off, 
wheeled  about  and  fled  as  fast  as  Black  Polly  could 
lay  hoofs  to  the  plain. 

And  now  he  found  the  value  of  the  trustworthy 
qualities  of  his  steed,  for,  instead  of  guiding  her  out 
of  the  way  of  obstacles,  he  gave  her  her  head,  held 
tight  with  his  legs,  and  merely  kept  an  eye  on  the 
ground  in  front  to  be  ready  for  any  swerve,  bound, 
or  leap,  that  might  be  impending.  Thus  his  hands 
were  set  free  to  re-charge  the  magazine  of  his  rifle, 
which  he  did  with  deliberate  rapidity. 

The  truth  is,  that  recklessness  has  a  distinct 
tendency  to  produce  coolness.  And  there  is  no  one 
who  can  afford  to  be  so  deliberate,  and  of  whom 
other  men  are  so  much  afraid,  as  the  man  who  has 
obviously  made  up  his  mind  to  die  fighting. 

While  Dick  was  loading-up.  Black  Polly  was 
encouraged  by  voice  and  heel  to  do  her  best,  and 
her  best  was  something  to  see  and  remember! 
"When  the  charging  was  finished,  Dick  drew  rein 
and  trotted  to  the  next  knoll  he  encountered,  from 
which  point   he  observed   with   some  satisfaction 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


299 


ras 
md 
fer  1 

rein 
lorn 
lion 


that  the  fugitives  were  still  pressing  ou,  and  that 
the  distance  between  them  and  their  foe  had  slightly 
increased. 

But  the  seaman  had  not  much  time  to  look  or 
think,  for  the  band  of  Eedskins  was  drawing  near. 
When  they  came  within  range  he  again  opened 
fire.  But  this  time  the  savages  divided,  evidently 
with  the  intention  of  getting  on  both  sides  of  him, 
and  so  distracting  his  attention.  He  perceived 
their  object  at  once,  and  reserved  his  fire  until  they 
turned  {ind  with  frantic  yells  made  a  simultaneous 
dash  on  him  right  and  left.  Again  he  waited  till 
his  enemies  were  close  enough,  and  then  opened 
fire  right  and  left  alternately,  while  the  Indians 
found  that  they  had  outwitted  themselves  and 
scarcely  dared  to  fire  lest  the  opposite  bands  should 
hit  each  other. 

Ha,ving  expended  the  second  supply  of  ammuni- 
tion, Dick  wheeled  round  and  took  to  flight  as  before. 
Of  course  the  mare  soon  carried  him  out  of  range, 
and  again  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  observing  that 
the  fugitives  had  increased  their  distance  from  the 
foe. 

"One  more  check  o'  this  kind,"  thought  Dick, 
"and  they'll  be  safe— I  think." 

While  thus  thinking  he  was  diligently  re-charg- 
ing, and  soon  cantered  to  the  top  of  a  third  knoll, 
where  he  resolved  to  make  his  final  stand.  The 
ranch  was  by  that  time  dimly  visible  on  the  horizon, 


300 


CHAKLIR  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


1^ 


J  f! 


and  the  weary  fugitives  were  seen  struggling  to- 
wards it.  But  Dick  found,  on  halting  and  looking 
back,  that  the  Indians  had  changed  their  tactics. 
Instead  of  directing  their  attention  to  himself,  as 
on  the  previous  occasions,  they  had  spread  out  to 
the  right  and  left  and  had  scattered,  besides  keep- 
ing well  out  of  range. 

''  What  are  the  sinners  up  to  now  ? "  muttered 
the  seaman  in  some  perplexity. 

He  soon  perceived  that  they  meant  to  go  past 
him  altogether,  if  possible,  and  head  towards  the 
fugitives  in  separate  groups. 

"  Ay,  but  it 's  not  possible ! "  exclaimed  Dick, 
answering  his  own  thoughts  as  he  turned  swiftly, 
and  stretched  out  after  his  friends.  Seeing  this,  the 
savages  tried  to  close  in  on  him  from  both  sides,  but 
their  already  winded  ponies  had  no  chance  against 
the  grand  Mexican  mare,  which  having  been  con- 
siderately handled  during  the  day's  journey  was 
comparatively  fresh  and  in  full  vigour. 

Shooting  ahead  he  now  resolved  to  join  his  friends, 
and  a  feeling  of  triumph  began  to  rise  within  his 
breast  as  he  saw  them  pushing  steadily  onward. 
The  ranch,  however,  was  still  at  a  considerable 
distance,  while  the  Indians  were  rapidly  gaining 
ground. 

At  that  moment,  to  Dick's  horror,  the  pony  which 
Mary  Jackson  rode  stumbled  and  fell,  sending  its 
rider  over  its  head.     But  the  fair  Mary,   besides 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


301 


Ui 


icli 

I  its 


les 


being  a  splendid  horsewoman,  was  singularly  agile 
and  quick  in  perception.  For  some  time  she  had 
anticipated  the  catastrophe,  and,  at  the  first  indi- 
cation of  a  stumble,  leaped  from  the  saddle  and  actu- 
ally alighted  on  her  feet  some  yards  ahead.  Of 
course  she  fell  with  some  violence,  but  the  leap 
broke  her  fall,  and  probably  saved  her  neck.  She 
sprang  up  instantly,  and  grasping  the  reins,  tried  to 
raise  her  pony.  It  was  too  late.  The  faithful 
creature  was  dead. 

Jackson,  pulling  up,  wheeled  round  and  was  back 
at  her  side  instantly.  Almost  at  the  same  moment 
Dick  Darvall  came  up,  threw  the  mare  almost  on 
her  haunches,  leaped  from  the  saddle,  and  ran  to 
Mary.  As  he  did  so,  the  crash  of  a  pistol  sliot  at 
his  ear  almost  deafened  him,  and  a  glance  showed 
him  that  Jackson  had  shot  his  horse,  which  fell 
dead  close  to  his  daughter's  pony. 

"  Kill  your  horse,  Dick,"  he  growled  sharply,  as 
he  exerted  his  great  strength  to  the  utmost,  and 
dragged  the  haunches  of  his  own  steed  close  to  the 
head  of  the  other.     "  It 's  our  only  chance." 

Dick  drew  his  revolver,  and  aimed  at  the  heart 
of  Black  Polly,  but  for  the  soul  of  him  he  could 
not  pull  the  trigger. 

"  No — I  won't !  "  he  cried,  grasping  the  lasso 
which  always  hung  at  the  saddle-bow.  "  Hobble 
the  fore- legs ! " 

There  was  such  determination  in  the  sailor's  com- 


m 


.>! 


i 


302 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  KRSCUE  :  A  TALE 


I  i\i^ 


h^ 


inand,  that  Jackson  felt  bound  to  obey.  At  tlio 
same  moment  Dick  bound  the  horse's  hind-legs.  He 
fully  understood  what  Jackson  intended,  and  the 
latter  was  as  quick  to  perceive  the  seaman's  drift. 
Seizing  the  reins,  while  his  friend  cauj^lit  hold  of 
the  lasso,  Dick  cried,  "  Out  o'  the  way,  Mary ! "  and 
with  a  mighty  effort  the  two  men  threw  tlie  mare 
on  her  side. 

"First-rate  !  "  cried  Jackson,  while  his  companion 
held  down  the  animal's  head.  "It  couldn't  have 
dropped  better.  Jump  inside,  Mary,  an'  lie  down 
flat  behind  your  pony.  Let  Mary  have  the  reins, 
Dick.  She  knows  how  to  hold  its  head  down  with- 
out showin'  herself." 

Even  while  he  was  speaking,  Jackson  and  Dick 
leaped  into  the  triangle  of  horses  thus  formed,  and, 
crouching  low,  disappeared  from  the  sight  of  the 
savages,  who  now  came  on  yelling  with  triumph,  for 
they  evidently  thought  themselves  sure  of  their 
victims  by  that  time, 

"  Are  ye  a  good  shot,  Dick  1 "  asked  Jackson,  as 
he  gazed  sternly  at  the  approaching  foe. 

"  No — abominably  bad." 

"  Fire  low  then.  You  may  catch  the  horses  if  ye 
miss  the  Redskins.  Anyhow  you  '11  hit  the  ground 
if  you  aim  low,  an'  it's  wonderful  what  execution  a 
bullet  may  do  arter  liittin'  mother  Earth." 

"  I  never  aim,"  replied  the  sailor.  "  Only  a  waste 
o'  time.     I  just  point  straight  an'  fire  away." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  TIIK  UOCKIES. 


303 


as 


I  ye 
lid 


h  a 


ste 


"  Do  it,  then,"  growled  Roaring  Bull,  with  some- 
thing that  sounded  like  a  short  laugh. 

At  the  same  momeuo  he  himself  took  quick  aim 
at  the  foe  and  iired ;  the  leading  horse  and  man  im- 
mediately rolled  upon  the  plain. 

As  both  men  were  armed  with  repeating  ritles 
the  fusillade  was  rapid,  and  most  of  the  savages,  who 
seldom  fight  well  in  the  open,  were  repulsed.  But 
several  of  them,  headed  apparently  by  their  chief, 
rode  on  fearlessly  until  within  pistol-shot. 

Then  the  two  defenders  of  this  peculiar  fortress 
sprang  up  with  revolvers  in  each  hand. 

"Lie  close,  Mary,"  cried  Ja>  kson  as  he  fired,  and 
the  chief's  horse  rolled  over,  aim  t  reaching  their 
position  with  the  impetus  of  the  irge.  The  cliief 
himself  lay  beside  his  horse,  for  another  shot  had 
ended  his  career.  As  two  other  horses  had  fallen, 
the  rest  of  the  band  wheeled  aside  and  galloped  away, 
followed  by  a  brisk  fire  from  the  white  men,  who 
had  again  crouched  behind  their  breast-work  and 
resumed  their  rifles. 

Bullets  were  by  that  time  flying  over  them  in 
considerable  numbers,  for  those  Indians  who  had 
not  charged  with  their  chief  had,  after  retiring  to  a 
safe  distance,  taken  to  firing  at  long  range.  At  this 
work  Dick's  rifle  and  straight  pointing  were  of  little 
use,  so  he  reserved  his  fire  for  close  quarters,  while 
Jackson,  who  was  almost  a  certain  shot  at  average 
ranges,  kept  the  savages  from  drawing  nearer. 


(I 


304 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


i 


[I': 


"  Lie  closer  to  the  pony,  Miss  Mary,"  said  Dick,  as  a 
shot  passed  close  over  the  girl  and  whistled  between 
him  and  his  comrade.    "Were  you  hurt  in  the  fall?" 

"No,  not  in  the  least.  Don't  you  think  they'll 
hear  the  firing  at  the  ranch,  father  ? " 

"  Ay,  lass,  if  there 's  anybody  to  hear  it,  but  I  sent 
the  boys  out  this  mornin'  to  hunt  up  a  bunch  o' 
steers  that  have  drifted  south  among  Wilson's  cattle, 
an'  I  fear  they've  not  come  back  yet.  See,  the 
reptiles  are  goin'  to  try  it  again  ! " 

As  he  spoke,  the  remnant  of  the  Eedskins  who 
pressed  home  the  first  charge,  having  held  a  palaver, 
induced  the  whole  band  to  make  another  attempt, 
but  tliey  were  met  with  the  same  vigour  as  before 
— a  continuous  volley  at  long  range,  which  emptied 
several  saddles,  and  then,  when  the  plucky  men  of 
the  tribe  charged  close,  the  white  men  stood  up,  as 
before,  and  plied  them  with  revolvers  so  rapidly 
that  they  were  fain  to  wheel  aside  and  retire. 

"Ammunition's  gettin'  low,"  said  Dick,  in  an 
anxious  tone. 

"Then  I'll  waste  no  more,"  growled  Jackson, 
"  but  only  fire  when  I  'm  safe  to  hit." 

As  he  spoke  a  dio.ant  cheer  was  heard,  and, 
looking  back,  they  saw,  with  a  rebound  of  hope, 
that  a  band  of  five  or  six  cow-boys  werj  coming 
from  the  ranch  and  galloping  full  swing  to  the 
rescue.  Behind  them,  a  few  seconds  later,  appeared 
a  line  of  men  who  came  on  at  a  swindns  trot. 


as 


an 


>^^- 


>XJ\:f!^%m£^i^'^ 


"AMMUNITIONS  GKTTIN"  L()\V,"  SMU  HICK.  -  I'a-c  :  0 1. 


I 


I 


'M 


/  i 


Ml 


OF  THE  SE.V  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


305 


I 


"  Troopers,  I  do  believe !  "  exclaimed  Jackson. 

"Thank  God!"  said  Mary,  with  a  deep  sigh  of 
relief  as  she  sat  up  to  look  at  them.  The  troopers 
gave  a  cheer  of  encouragement  as  they  thundered 
past  to  the  attack,  but  the  Indians  did  not  await 
the  onset.  At  the  first  sight  of  the  troops  they  fled, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  pursued  and  pursuers  alike 
were  out  of  sight — hidden  behind  the  prairie  waves. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  hew  thankful  I  am  that  I  didn't 
shoot  the  mare,"  said  Dick,  as  they  unfastened  the  feet 
of  Black  Polly  and  let  her  rise.  "  I  'd  never  have  been 
able  to  look  Ilunky  Ben  in  the  face  again  arter  it." 

"  Well,  I  'm  not  sorry  you  spared  her,"  said  Jack- 
son ;  "  as  for  the  two  that  are  dead,  they  're  no  great 
loss — yet  I  've  a  kind  o'  regret  too,  for  the  poor 
things  served  us  well." 

"Faithfully — even  to  death,"  added  Mary,  in  a 
soiTowful  tone  as  she  stooped  to  pat  the  neck  of  her 
dead  pon3^ 

"  Will  you  mount,  Miss  Mary,  and  ride  home  ? " 
asked  the  sailor. 

"Thank  you — no,  I'd  rather  walk  with  father. 
We  have  not  far  to  go  now." 

"  Then  v/e  '11  all  walk  together,"  said  Jackson. 

Dick  threw  Black  Polly's  bridle  over  his  arm, 
and  they  all  set  off  at  a  smart  walk  for  the  ranch 
of  Eoaring  Bull,  while  the  troops  and  cow-boys 
chased  the  Eedskins  back  into  the  mountains  whence 
they  had  come. 

u 


;  I 


iiii 


Ml 


(•r^ 


30G 


CHAKUE  TO  THE  IlESCUE  :   A  TALE 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 


TKEATS  OP  VARIOUS  INTKRESTING  MATTERS,   AND  TELLS  OP  NEWS 

FROM   HOME. 

Dick  Darvall  now  learned  that,  owing  to  the 
disturbed  state  of  the  country,  Captain  Wilmot 
had  left  a  small  body  of  men  to  occupy  Bull's 
ranch  for  a  time;  hence  their  presence  at  the 
critical  moment  when  Jackson  and  his  daughter 
stood  so  much  in  need  of  their  assistance. 
He  also  found  that  there  were  two  letters  awaiting 
the  party  at  Traitor's  Trap — one  for  Charles  Brooke, 
Esq.,  and  one  for  Mr.  S.  Leather.  They  bore  the 
postmarks  of  the  old  country. 

"  You  'd  better  not  start  back  wi'  them  for  three 
or  four  days,  Dick,"  said  Jackson,  when  they  were 
seated  that  evening  in  the  liall  of  the  ranch,  en- 
joying a  cup  of  coffee  made  by  the  fair  hands  of 
Mary. 

Dick  shook  his  head.  "  I  'm  acting  post-boy  just 
now,"  said  he,  "  an'  it  would  ill  become  me  to  hang 
off  an'  on  here  waitin'  for  a  fair  wind  when  I  can 
beat  into  port  with  a  foul  one." 

"  But  if  the  Eedskins  is  up  all  round,  as  some  o' 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  UOUKIES. 


!07 


the 


eii- 
of 

just 
hang 
can 


the  boys  have  reported,  it 's  not  merely  a  foul  wind 
but  a  regular  gale  that's  blowin',  an'  it  would 
puzzle  you  to  beat  into  port  in  the  teeth  o'  that." 

"I  think,"  remarked  Mary,  with  an  arch  smile, 
"that  Mr.  Darvall  had  better  'lay  to'  until  the 
troops  return  to-night  and  report  on  the  state  of 
the  weather." 

To  this  the  gallant  seaman  declared  that  he  would 
be  only  too  happy  to  cast  anchor  altogether  where 
he  was  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  but  that  duty  was 
duty,  and  that,  blow  high  or  blow  low,  fair  weather 
or  foul,  duty  had  to  be  attended  to. 

"  That 's  true,  0  high-principled  seaman  ! "  re- 
turned Jackson;  "and  what  d'ye  consider  your 
duty  at  the  present  time  ? " 

"  To  deliver  my  letters,  0  Eoarin'  Bull ! "  replied 
Dick. 

"  Just  so,  but  if  you  go  slick  off  when  Kedskins 
are  rampagin'  around,  you  '11  be  sure  to  get  nabbed 
an*  roasted  alive,  an'  so  you'll  never  deliver  your 
letters." 

"  It 's  my  duty  to  try,"  said  Dick.  "  Hows'ever," 
he  added,  turning  to  Mary  with  a  benignant  smile, 
"I'll  take  your  advice.  Miss  Mary,  an'  wait  for 
the  report  o'  the  soldiers." 

When  the  troopers  returned,  their  report  was,  that 
the  Redskins,  after  being  pretty  severely  handled, 
had  managed  to  reach  the  woods,  where  it  w^uld 
have  been  useless  to  follow  them  so  close  upon 


'\k 


'      'I^^^^^H 

■Kg  1 

i                'IB'' if    * 

308 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :    A  TALE 


II 


H  k 


■wit 

JHl  ' 

^^^^^^^^^^^^HH 

night ;  but  it  was  their  opinion  that  the  band,  which 
had  so  nearly  captured  the  boss  of  the  ranch  and 
his  daughter,  was  merely  a  marauding  band,  from 
the  south,  of  the  same  Indians  who  had  previously 
attacked  the  ranch,  and  that,  as  for  the  Indians  of 
the  district,  they  believed  them  to  be  quite  peace- 
ably disposed. 

"Which  says  a  good  deal  for  them/'  remarked 
the  officer  in  command  of  the  troops,  "when  we 
consider  the  provocation  they  receive  from  Buck 
Tom,  Jake  the  Flint,  and  such-like  ruffians." 

"The  moon  rises  at  ten  to-night,  Dick,"  said 
Jackson,  as  they  went  together  to  the  stables  to 
see  that  the  horses  were  all  right. 

"  That 's  so,"  said  the  sailor,  who  noticed  something 
peculiar  in  tho  man's  tone ;  "  what  may  be  the  reason 
0*  your  reference  to  that  bit  of  astronomy  ? " 

"  Why,  you  see,"  returned  the  other, "  post-boys  in 
these  diggin's  are  used  to  travellin'  night  an'  day. 
An'  the  troopers'  report  o*  the  weather  might  be  worse. 
You  was  sayin'  somethin'  about  duty,  wasn't  you  ? " 

"  Eight,  Jackson,"  returned  Dick,  "  but  Black 
Polly  is  not  used  to  travellin'  night  an'  day.  If  she 
was,  I'd  take  her  back  to-night,  for  moonlight  is 
good  enough  for  a  man  that  has  twice  taken  soundin's 
along  the  road,  an'  who  's  well  up  in  all  the  buoys, 
beacons,  an'  landmarks,  but  it  would 


cruelty 


the  j2:ood  mare. 


Duty  first,  Dick,  the  mare  second.      You  don't 


IS 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


309 


need  to  trouble  about  her.  I'll  lend  ye  one  o'  my 
best  horses  an'  take  good  care  o'  Black  Polly  till 
Hunky  Ben  claims  her." 

"  Thank  'ee,  Jackson,  but  I  '11  not  part  wi'  Black 
Polly  till  I  've  delivered  her  to  her  owner.  I  won't 
accept  your  ir^dte  to  stop  here  three  or  four  days, 
but  neither  will  I  start  off  to-night.  I  've  too  much 
regard  for  the  good  mare  to  do  that." 

"  Ho !  ho ! "  thought  his  host,  with  an  inward 
chuckle,  "  it 's  not  so  much  the  mare  as  Mary  that 
you  've  a  regard  for,  my  young  sailor ! " 

But  in  spite  of  his  name  the  man  was  much 
too  polite  to  express  this  opinion  aloud.  He  merely 
said,  "  Well,  Dick,  you  know  that  you  *re  welcome 
to  squat  here  as  long  or  as  short  a  time  as  you  like, 
an'  use  the  best  o'  my  horses,  if  so  disposed,  or  do 
the  postboy  business  on  Black  Polly.  Do  as  ye  like 
wi'  me  an'  mine,  boy,  for  it 's  only  fair  to  say  that 
but  for  your  help  this  day  my  Mary  an'  me  would 
have  bin  done  for." 

They  reached  the  stable  as  he  was  speaking, 
and  Jackson  at  once  turned  the  conversation  on  the 
horses,  thus  preventing  a  reply  from  Dick — in  regard 
to  which  the  latter  was  not  sorry. 

In  the  stall  the  form  of  Black  Polly  looked 
grander  than  ever,  for  her  head  nearly  touched  the 
roof  as  she  raised  it  and  turned  a  gleaming  eye  on 
the  visitors,  at  the  same  time  uttering  a  slij^ht 
whinny  of  expectation. 


: 


310 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


"Why,  I  do  believe  she  has  tmnsferred  her 
affections  to  you,  Dick,"  said  Jackson.  "I  never 
heard  her  do  that  before  except  to  Hunky  Ben, 
and  she 's  bin  many  a  time  in  that  stall." 

"More  likely  that  she  expected  Ben  had  come 
to  bid  her  good-night,"  returned  the  sailor. 

But  the  way  in  which  the  beautiful  creature 
received  Dick's  caresses  induced  Jackson  to  hold 
to  his  opinion.  It  is  more  probable,  however,  that 
some  similarity  of  disposition  between  Dick  Darvall 
and  Hunky  Ben  had  commended  itself  to  the  mare, 
which  was,  as  much  as  many  a  human  being,  of  an 
amiable,  loving  disposition.  She  thoroughly  ap- 
preciated the  tenderness  and  forbearance  of  her 
master,  and,  more  recently,  of  Dick.  No  doubt  the 
somewhat  rough  way  in  which  she  had  been  thrown 
to  the  ground  that  day  may  have  astonished  her, 
but  it  evidently  had  not  soured  her  temper. 

That  night  Dick  did  not  see  much  of  Mary.  She 
was  far  too  busy  attending  to,  and  providing  for,  the 
numerous  guests  at  the  ranch  to  be  able  to  give 
individual  attention  to  any  one  in  particular — even 
had  she  been  so  disposed. 

Buttercup  of  course  lent  able  assistance  to  her 
mistress  in  these  domestic  duties,  and,  despite  her 
own  juvenility — we  might  perhaps  say,  in  conse- 
quence of  it — gave  Mary  much  valuable  advice. 

"Dat  man's  in  a  bad  way,"  said  she,  as,  with 
her  huge  lips  pouting  earnestly,  she  examined  the 


OF  THK  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


311 


contents  of  a  big  pot  on  the  fire.  The  black  maiden's 
lips  were  so  pronounced  and  expressive  that  they 
might  almost  be  said  to  constitute  her  face ! 

"  What  man  ? "  asked  Mary,  who,  with  her  sleeves 
tucked  up  to  the  elbows,  was  manipulating  certain 
proportions  of  flour,  water,  and  butter. 

"  Why,  Dick,  ob  course.  He 's  de  only  man  wuth 
speakin'  about." 

Mary  blushed  a  little  in  spite  of  herself,  and 
laughed  hilariously  as  she  replied — 

"Dear  me,  Butter,  I  didn't  think  he  had  made 
such  a  deep  impression  on  you." 

"  'Snot  on'y  on  me  he 's  made  a  'mpress'n,"  returned 
the  maid,  carelessly.  "  He  makes  de  same  'mpress'n 
on  eberybody." 

"  How  d'  you  know  ? "  asked  Mary. 

"  'Cause  I  see,"  answered  the  maid. 

She  turned  her  eyes  on  her  mistress  as  she  spoke, 
and  immediately  a  transformation  scene  was  i^re- 
sented.  The  eyes  dwindled  into  slits  as  the  cheeks 
rose,  and  the  serious  pout  became  a  smile  so  magni- 
ficent that  ivory  teeth  and  scarlet  gums  set  in  ebony 
alone  met  the  gaze  of  the  beholder. 

*'  Buttercup,"  exclaimed  Mary,  stamping  her  little 
foot  firmly,  "  it 's  boiling  over ! " 

She  was  right.  Teeth  and  gums  vanished.  The 
eyes  returned,  so  did  the  pout,  and  the  pot  was 
whipped  off  the  fire  in  a  twinkling,  but  not  before  a 
mighty  hiss  was  heard  and  the  head  of  the  black 


!'  f 


11=11 


'';! 


'?.■ 


mm 


!'■ 


312 


CHA.RLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


maiden  was  involved  in  a  cloud  of  steam  and 
ashes ! 

"  I  told  you  so ! "  cried  Mary,  quoting  from  an 
ancient  MS. 

"  No,  you  di'u't,"  retorted  her  servitor,  speaking 
from  the  depths  of  her  own  consciousness. 

We  refrain  from  following  the  conversation  beyond 
this  point,  as  it  became  culinary  and  flat. 

Next  day  Dick  Darvall,  refreshed — and,  owing 
to  some  quite  inexplicable  influences,  enlivened — 
mounted  Black  Polly  and  started  off  alone  for 
Traitor's  Trap,  leaving  his  heart  and  a  reputation 
for  cool  pluck  behind  him. 

Of  course  he  was  particularly  watchful  and  cir- 
cumspect on  the  way  up,  but  saw  nothing  to  call 
for  a  further  display  of  either  pluck  or  coolness. 
On  arriving  at  the  cave  he  found  his  friends  there 
much  as  he  had  left  them.  Buck  Tom,  owing  to 
the  skilled  attentions  which  he  had  received  from 
that  amateur  surgeon,  Hunky  Ben,  and  a  long  re- 
freshing sleep — tlie  result  of  partial  relief  from  pain 
— was  a  good  deal  better ;  and  poor  Leather,  cheered 
by  the  hope  thus  raised  of  his  friend's  recovery, 
was  himself  considerably  improved  in  health  and 
spirits. 

Fortunately  for  his  own  peace  of  mind,  it  never 
seemed  to  occur  to  Shank  that  a  return  to  health 
meant,  for  Buck  Tom,  death  on  the  gallows.  Per- 
haps his  own  illness  had  weakened  Shank's  powers 


OF  THE  SliA  A^D  THE  ROCKIES. 


313 


of  thought.  It  may  be,  his  naturally  thoughtless 
disposition  helped  to  render  him  oblivious  of  the 
solemn  fact,  and  no  one  was  cruel  enough  to  remind 
him  of  it.  But  Buck  himself  never  forgot  it ;  yet 
he  betrayed  no  symptom  of  despondency,  neither 
did  he  indicate  any  degree  of  hope.  He  was  a  man 
of  resolute  purpose,  and  had  the  power  of  subduing 
— at  least  of  absolutely  concealing — his  feelings.  To 
those  who  nursed  him  he  seemed  to  be  in  a  state  of 
gentle,  colourless  resignation. 

Charlie  Brooke  and  Hunky  Ben,  having  been  out 
together,  had  returned  well  laden  with  game ;  and 
Leather  was  busy  at  the  lire  preparing  a  savoury 
mess  of  the  same  for  his  sick  friend  when  Dick 
arrived. 

"  News  from  the  old  country ! "  he  exclaimed, 
holding  up  the  letters  on  entering  the  cave.  "  Two 
for  Charles  Brooke,  Esq.,  and  one  for  Mister 
Leather!" 

"  They  might  have  been  more  polite  to  me.  Hand 
it  here,"  said  the  latter,  endeavouring  to  conceal 
under  a  jest  his  excitement  at  the  sight  of  a  letter 
from  home ;  for  his  wild  life  had  cut  him  ofiP  from 
communication  for  a  very  long  time. 

"  One  of  mine  is  from  old  Jacob  Crossley,"  said 
Charlie,  tearing  the  letter  open  with  eager  interest. 

"  An*  mine  is  from  sister  May,"  exclaimed  Shank. 

If  any  one  had  observed  Buck  Tom  at  that 
moment,  he  would  have  seen  that  the  outlaw  started 


(■  ■■ 


'ilMtl 


Win 


It] 


m 


ill 


'i  ■ 


1: 


314 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


m 


\<\ 


and  rose  almost  up  on  one  elbow,  wliile  a  deep  llusli 
suffused  his  bronzed  countenance.  The  action  and 
the  flush  were  only  momentary,  however.  He  sank 
down  again  and  turned  his  face  to  the  wall. 

Charlie  also  started  and  looked  at  Shank  when 
the  name  of  May  was  mentioned,  and  the  eye  of 
Hunky  I  was  on  him  at  the  moment.  But 
Hunky  of  course  could  not  interpret  the  start.  He 
knew  little  of  our  hero's  past  history — nothing  what- 
ever about  May.  Being  a  western  scout,  no  line  of 
his  mahogany-looking  face  indicated  that  the  start 
aroused  a  th':'Ught  of  any  kind. 

While  the  recipients  of  the  letters  were  busily 
perusing  their  missives,  Dick  Darvall  gave  the  scout 
a  brief  outline  of  his  expedition  to  the  ranch,  re- 
serving the  graphic  narration  of  incidents  to  a  more 
fitting  oc       on,  when  all  the  party  could  listen. 

"Dick,  J     -'re  a  trump,"  said  the  scout. 

"  I  'm  a  lucky  fellow,  anyhow,"  returned  Dick. 

"  In  very  truth  ye  are,  lad,  to  escape  from  such  a 
big  bunch  o'  Eedskins  without  a  scratch  ;  why " 

"  Pooh  ! "  interrupted  the  sailor,  "  that 's  not  the 
luck  I'm  thinkin'  of  Havin'  overhauled  Roarin' 
Bull  an'  his  little  girl  in  time  to  help  rescue  them, 
that 's  what  I  call  luck — d'ee  see  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  was  Hunky  Ben's  laconic  reply. 

Perhaps  the  scout  saw  more  than  was  intended, 
for  he  probably  observed  the  glad  enthusiasm  with 
which  the  bold  seaman  mentioned  Roarins  Bull's 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  TIIK  ROCKIES. 


31.1 


a 

>> 

the 
kn' 


led, 
lith 

ll's 


little  girl.  We  cannot  tell.  His  wooden  counten- 
ance betrayed  no  sign,  and  ho  may  have  seen  no- 
thing ;  but  he  was  a  western  scout,  and  accustomed 
to  take  particular  note  of  the  smallest  signs  of  the 
wilderness. 

"Capital — first-rate !"  exclaimed  Charlie,  looking 
up  from  his  letter  when  he  had  finislied  it. 

"  Just  what  I  was  going  to  say,  or  something  of 
the  same  sort,"  said  Leather,  as  he  folded  his  epistle. 

"Then  there's  nothing  but  good  news?"  said 
Charlie. 

"  Nothing.  I  suppose  it 's  the  same  with  you,  to 
judge  from  your  looks,"  returned  Shank. 

"  Exactly.  Perhaps,"  said  Charlie, "  it  may  interest 
you  all  to  hear  my  letter.  There  are  no  secrets  in 
it,  and  the  gentleman  who  writes  it  is  a  jolly  old 
fellow,  Jacob  Crossley  by  name.  You  know  him, 
Dick,  as  the  owner  of  the  Walnis,  though  you  've 
never  seen  him." 

"  All  right.     I  remember ;  fire  away,"  said  Dick. 

"  It  is  dated  from  his  office  in  London,"  continued 
our  hero,  "  and  runs  thus : — 

"  My  dear  Brooke, — We  were  all  very  glad  to 
hear  of  your  safe  arrival  in  New  York,  and  hope 
that  long  before  this  reaches  your  hand  you  will 
have  found  poor  Leather  and  got  him  to  some  place 
of  comfort,  where  he  may  recover  the  health  that 
we  have  been  given  to  understand  he  has  lost. 

"  I.  chanced  to  be  down  at  Sealford  visiting  your 


li^ 


316 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  liESCUE :   A  TALE 


II 


mother  when  your  letter  arrived ;  hence  my  know- 
ledge of  its  contents.  Mrs.  Leather  and  her  daughter 
May  were  then  as  usical.  By  the  way,  what  a 
pretty  girl  May  has  become !  I  remember  her  such 
a  rumpled  up,  dress-anyhow,  harum-scarum  sort  of 
a  girl,  that  I  find  it  hard  to  believe  the  tall,  grace- 
ful, modest  creature  I  meet  with  now  is  the  same 
person  !  Captain  Stride  says  she  is  the  finest  craft 
he  ever  saw,  except  that  wonderful  *  Maggie,'  about 
whose  opinions  and  sayings  he  tells  us  so  much. 

"But  this  is  a  double  digression.  To  return: 
your  letter  of  course  gave  us  all  great  pleasure.  It 
also  gave  your  mother  and  May  some  anxiety,  where 
it  tells  of  the  necessity  of  your  going  up  to  that 
wild-west  place,  Traitor's  Trap,  where  poor  Leather 
is  laid  up.  Take  care  of  yourself,  my  dear  boy,  for 
I  'm  told  that  the  red  savages  are  still  given  to  those 
roasting,  scalping,  and  other  torturing  that  one  has 
read  of  in  the  pages  of  Fenimore  Cooper. 

"  By  the  way,  before  I  forget  it,  let  me  say,  in 
reference  to  the  enclosed  bill,  it  is  a  loan  which  I 
have  obtained  for  Leather,  at  very  mod  ^rate  interest, 
and  when  more  is  required  more  can  be  obtained  on 
the  same  terms.  Let  him  understand  tliis,  for  I 
don't  wish  that  he  should  think,  on  the  one  hand, 
that  he  is  drawing  on  his  mother's  slender  resources, 
or,  on  the  other  hand,  that  he  is  under  obligation  to 
any  one.  I  send  the  bill  because  I  feel  quite  sure 
that  you  started  on  this  expedition  with  too  little. 


wmmm 


0?  THE  SEA  AND  THE  R0CKIE3. 


317 


t,  111 
fli  I 
i-est, 
on 
.r  I 
land, 
•ces, 
[11  to 
Isure 
ttle. 


It  is  drawn  in  your  name,  and  I  think  you  will  be 
able  to  cajh  it  at  any  civilised  town — even  in  the 
far  west ! 

•Talking  of  Captain  Stride — ivas  I  talking  of 
him  ?  Well,  no  matter.  As  he  is  past  work  now, 
but  thinks  himself  very  far  indeed  from  that  con- 
dition, I  have  prevailed  on  him  to  accept  a  new  and 
peculiar  post  arising  out  of  the  curious  evolutions 
of  the  firm  of  Withers  and  Co.  which  satisfies  the 
firm  completely  and  suits  the  captain  to  a  T.  As 
the  work  can  be  done  anywhere,  a  residence  has 
been  taken  for  him  in  Sealford,  mid-way  between 
that  of  your  mother  and  Mrs.  Leather,  so  that  he 
and  his  wife  and  little  girl  can  run  into  either  port 
when  so  disposed.  As  Mrs.  L.,  however  (to  use  his 
own  phraseology),  is  almost  always  to  be  found  at 
anchor  in  the  Brooke  harbour,  he  usually  kills  both 
with  the  same  visit.  I  have  not  been  to  see  him 
yet  in  the  new  abode,  and  do  not  know  what  the 
celebrated  Maggie  thinks  of  it. 

"  When  you  find  Leather,  poor  fellow,  tell  him 
that  his  mother  and  sister  are  very  well.  The 
former  is  indefatigable  in  knitting  those  hundreds 
of  socks  and  stockings  for  poor  people,  about  which 
there  has  been,  and  still  is,  and  I  think  ever  will  be, 
so  much  mystery.  The  person  who  buys  tliem  from 
her  must  be  very  deep  as  well  as  honest,  for  no 
inquiries  ever  throw  any  fresh  light  on  die  subject, 
and  he — or  she,  whichever  it  is — pays  regularly  as 


.Jl 


.'If 


:    r 


■"! 


I 


318 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:   A  TALE 


the  worsted  work  is  delivered — so  I  'm  told  !  It  is 
a  little  old  lady  who  pays — but  I've  reason  to  believe 
that  she 's  only  a  go-between — some  agent  of  a  so- 
ciety for  providing  cheap  clothing  for  the  poor,  I 
fancy,  which  the  poor  stand  very  much  in  need  of, 
poor  things !  Your  good  mother  helps  in  this  work 
— at  least  so  I  am  told,  but  I  'm  not  much  up  in 
in  the  details  of  it  yet.  I  mean  to  run  down  to  see 
them  in  a  few  days  and  hear  all  about  it. 

"  Stride,  I  forgot  to  say,  is  allowed  to  smoke  a 
pipe  in  your  mother's  parlour  when  he  pays  her  a 
visit.  This  is  so  like  her  amiability,  for  she  hates 
tobacco  as  much  as  I  do.  I  ventured  on  a  similarly 
amiable  experiment  one  day  when  the  worthy  Cap- 
tain dined  with  me,  but  the  result  was  so  serious 
that  I  have  not  ventured  to  repeat  it.  You  remem- 
ber my  worthy  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Bland  ?  Well,  she 
kicked  over  the  traces  and  became  quite  unmanage- 
able. I  had  given  Stride  leave  to  smoke  after  dessert, 
because  I  had  a  sort  of  idea  that  he  could  not  digest 
his  food  without  a  pipe.  You  know  my  feelings 
with  regard  to  young  fellows  who  try  to  emulate 
chimneys,  so  you  can  understand  that  my  allowing 
the  Captain  to  indulge  was  no  relaxation  of  my 
principles,  but  was  the  result  of  a  strong  objection  I 
had  to  spoil  the  dinner  of  a  man  who  was  somewhat 
older  than  myself  by  cramming  my  principles  down 
his  throat 

"  But  the  moment  that  Mrs.  Bland  entered  I  knew 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIKS. 


319 


a 


iiy 
I 
hat 
Iwii 

ew 


by  the  glance  of  her  eye,  as  well  as  by  the  sniff  of 
her  nose,  that  a  storm  was  brewing  up — as  Stride 
puts  it — and  I  was  not  wrong.  The  storm  burst 
upon  me  that  evening.  It 's  impossible,  and  might 
be  tedious,  to  give  you  all  the  conversation  that  we 
had  after  Stride  had  gone,  but  the  upshot  was  that 
she  gave  me  warning. 

"  *  But,  my  good  woman,*  I  began 

"  *  It  *s  of  no  use  good-womaning  me,  Mr.  Crossley,' 
said  she,  *  I  couldn't  exist  in  a  'ouse  w'ere  smokin' 
is  allowed.  My  dear  father  died  of  smokin' — at 
least,  if  he  didn't,  smokin*  must  'ave  'ad  somethink 
to  do  with  it,  for  after  the  dear  man  was  gone 
a  pipe  an'  a  plug  of  the  nasty  stuff  was  found  under 
'is  piller,  so  I  can't  stand  it ;  an'  what 's  more,  Mr. 
Crossley,  I  won't  stand  it !  Just  think,  sir,  'ow  silly 
it  is  to  put  a  bit  of  clay  in  your  mouth  an*  draw 
smoke  through  it,  an'  then  to  spit  it  out  again  as  if 
you  didn't  like  it ;  as  no  more  no  one  docs  on  begin- 
nin*  it,  for  boys  only  smoke  to  look  like  men,  an' 
men  only  smoke  because  they've  got  up  the  'abit 
an'  can't  'elp  it.  Wy,  sir,  you  may  git  up  any  *abit. 
You  may  git  the  'abit  of  walkin'  on  your  'ands 
an'  shakin'  your  legs  in  the  hair  if  you  was  to  per- 
severe long  enough,  but  that  would  only  prove  you  a 
fool  fit  for  a  circus  or  a  lunatic  asylum.  You  never 
see  the  haniraals  smokin*.  They  knows  better. 
Just  fancy !  what  would  you  think  if  you  saw  the 
cab  'osses  all  a-settin*  on  their  tails  in  the  rank 


;  ,i  I 


I  m 


'.  ,'i- 


f 


320 


CIIAULIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


m 


III 

ft;. 


^IHlifjl! 


smokin'  pipes  an'  cigars !  What  would  you  think 
of  a  'oss  w'en  'is  cabby  cried,  "  Gee-up,  there 's  a  fare 
a  'owlin'  for  us,"  an'  that  'oss  would  say,  "  Hall  right, 
cabby,  just  'old  on,  hold  man,  till  I  finish  my  pipe"  ? 
No,  Mr.  Crossley,  no,  I ' 

"'But,  my  good  soul!'  I  burst  in  here,  'do 
listen ' 

"'No  use  good-soulin'  me,  Mr.  Crossley.  I  tell 
you  I  won't  stand  it.  My  dear  father  died  of  it,  an' 
I  can't  stand  it ' 

" '  I  hate  it,  Mrs.  Bland,  myself ! ' 

"I  shouted  this  interruption  in  such  a  loud  fierce 
tone  that  the  good  woma'i  stopped  and  looked  at 
me  in  surprise. 

" '  Yes,  Mrs.  Bland,'  I  continued,  in  the  same  tone, 
'I  detest  smoking.  You  know  I  always  did,  but 
now  more  than  ever,  for  your  reasoning  has  con- 
vinced me  that  there  are  some  evil  consequences  of 
smoking  which  are  almost  worse  than  smoking  itself! 
Eest  assured  that  never  again  shall  the  smell  of  the 
noxious  weed  defile  the  walls  of  this  house.' 

" '  Lauk,  sir  I '  said  Mrs.  Bland. 

"  I  had  subdued  her,  Charlie,  by  giving  in  with 
dignity.  I  shall  try  the  same  role  next  breeze  that 
threatens. 

"  I  almost  feel  that  I  owe  you  an  apology  for  the 
length  of  this  epistle.  Let  me  conclude  by  urging 
you  to  bring  poor  Leather  home,  strong  and  well. 
Tell  him  from  me  that  there  is  a  vacant  situation  in 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


321 


the  firm  of  Withers  and  Co.  which  will  just  suit  him. 
He  shall  have  it  when  he  returns — if  God  spares  me 
to  see  him  again.  But  I  'm  getting  old,  Charlie,  and 
we  know  not  what  a  day  may  bring  fortli." 

"A  kind — a  very  kind  letter,"  said  Leather 
earnestly,  when  his  friend  had  finished  reading. 

"  Why,  he  writes  as  if  he  were  your  own  father, 
Brooke,"  remarked  Buck  Tom,  who  had  been  lis- 
tening intently.     "  Have  you  known  him  long  ? " 

"Not  long.  Only  since  the  time  that  lie  gave 
me  the  appointment  of  supercargo  to  the  Walrus, 
but  the  little  I  have  seen  of  him  has  aroused  in  me 
a  feeling  of  strong  regard." 

"  My  sister  May  refers  to  him  here,"  said  Leather, 
with  a  peculiar  smile,  as  he  re-opened  his  letter. 
"  The  greater  part  of  this  tells  chiefly  of  private  affairs 
which  would  not  interest  any  of  you,  but  here  is  a 
passage  which  forms  a  sort  of  commentary  on  what 
you  have  just  heard : — 

" '  You  will  be  amused  to  hear,'  she  writes, '  that 
good  Captain  Stride  has  come  to  live  in  Sealford. 
Kind  old  Mr.  Crossley  has  given  him  some  sort  of 
work  connected  with  Withers  and  Co.'s  house  which 
I  can  neither  understand  nor  describe.  Indeed, 
I  am  convinced  it  is  merely  work  got  up  on  purpose 
by  Mr.  Crossley  as  an  excuse  for  giving  his  old 
friend  a  salary,  for  he  knows  that  Captain  Stride 
would  be  terribly  cast  down  if  offered  a  jpcnsion,  as 
that  would  be  equivalent  to  pronouncing  him  unfit 


li 


322 


CHA.RLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


i;' 


Wi 

1    1     ' 

iSfS  : 

'JmI 

1         ' 

l! 

for  further  duty,  and  the  Captain  will  never  admit 
himself  to  be  in  that  condition  till  he  is  dying. 
Old  Jacob  Crossley — as  you  used  to  call  him — 
thinks  himself  a  very  sagacious  and  "  deep  "  man,  but 
in  truth  there  never  was  a  simpler  or  more  trans- 
parent one.  He  thinks  that  we  know  nothing 
about  who  it  is  that  sends  the  old  lady  to  buy  up 
all  the  worsted-work  that  mother  makes,  but  we 
know  perfectly  well  that  it  is  himself,  and  dear 
mother  could  never  have  gone  on  working  with 
satisfaction  and  receiving  the  money  for  it  all  if  we 
had  not  found  out  that  he  buys  it  for  our  fisher- 
men, who  are  said  really  to  be  very  much  in  need 
of  the  things  she  makes. 

" '  The  dear  old  man  is  always  doing  something 
kind  and  considerate  in  a  sly  way,  under  the 
impression  that  nobody  notices.  He  little  knows 
the  power  of  woman's  observation !  By  the  way, 
that  reminds  me  that  he  is  not  ignorant  of  woman's 
powers  in  other  ways.  We  heard  yesterday  that 
his  old  and  faithful — though  rather  trying — house- 
keeper had  quarrelled  with  him  about  smoking !  We 
were  greatly  surprised,  for  we  knew  that  the  old 
gentleman  is  not,  and  never  was,  a  smoker.  She 
threatened  to  leave,  but  we  have  since  heard,  I  am 
glad  to  say,  that  they  have  made  it  up ! '" 

"  H'm !  there 's  food  for  meditation  in  all  that," 
said  Dick  Darvall,  as  he  knocked  the  ashes  out  of 
his  pipe  and  put  it  in  his  vest  pocket. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


323 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

nUNKY  BKN  AND  CHARLIE  GET  BEYOND  THEIR  DEPTH, 
AND  BUCK  TOM   GETS  BEYOND   RECALL. 

While  hunting  together  in  the  woods  near 
Traitor's  Trap  one  day  Charlie  Brooke  and  Hunky 
Ben  came  to  a  halt  on  the  summit  of  an  eminence 
that  commanded  a  wide  view  over  the  surrounding 
con  ntry. 

"  'Tin  a  glorious  place,  Ben,"  said  Brooke,  leaning 
his  rifl'i  against  a  tree  and  mounting  on  a  piece  of 
rock,  the  better  to  take  in  the  beautiful  prospect  of 
woodland,  river,  and  lake.  "  When  I  think  of  the 
swarms  of  poor  folk  in  the  old  country  who  don't 
own  a  foot  of  land,  have  little  to  eat,  and  only  rags 
to  cover  them,  I  long  to  bring  them  out  here  and 
plant  them  down  where  God  has  spread  His 
blessings  so  bountifully,  where  there  is  never  lack 
of  work,  and  where  Nature  pays  high  wages  to  those 
who  obey  her  laws." 

"  No  doubt  there 's  room  enough  here,"  returned 
the  scout,  sitting  down  and  laying  his  rifle  across 
his  knees.  "  I  've  often  thowt  on  them  subjects,  but 
my  thowts  only  lead  to  puzzlement ;  for,  out  here  in 


I    i 


m 


324 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :    A  TALE 


the  wilderness,  a  man  can't  git  all  the  information 
needful  to  larn  him  about  things  in  the  old  world. 
Dear,  dear,  it  do  seem  strange  to  me  that  any  man 
should  choose  to  starve  in  the  cities  when  there's 
the  free  wilderness  to  roam  about  in.  I  mind  havin' 
a  palaver  once  wi'  a  stove-up  man  when  I  was 
ranchin'  down  in  Kansas  on  the  Indian  Territory 
Line.  Screw  was  his  name,  an'  a  real  kind- 
hearted  fellow  he  was  too — only  he  couldn't  keep 
his  hand  off  that  curse  o'  mankind,  the  bottle.  I 
mentioned  to  him  my  puzzlements  about  this 
matter,  an'  he  up  fist  an'  come  down  on  the  table 
wi'  a  crack  that  made  the  glasses  bounce  as  if  they  'd 
all  come  alive,  an'  caused  a  plate  o'  mush  in  front 
of  him  to  spread  itself  all  over  the  place — but  he 
cared  nothin'  for  that,  he  was  so  riled  up  by  the 
thowts  my  obsarvation  had  shook  up. 

"'Hunky  Ben,'  says  he,  glowerin'  at  me  like  a 
bull  wi'  the  measles,  '  the  reason  we  stay  there  an' 
don't  come  out  here  or  go  to  the  other  parts  o'  God's 
green  arth  is  'cause  we  can't  help  ourselves  an'  don't 
know  how — or  what — don't  know  nothin'  in  fact ! ' 

" '  That 's  a  busted-up  state  o'  ignorance,  no  doubt,' 
said  I,  in  a  soothin'  sort  o'  way,  for  I  see'd  the 
man  was  riled  pretty  bad  by  ancient  memories,  an' 
looked  gittin'  waxier.  He  wore  a  black  eye,  too, 
caught  in  a  free  fight  the  night  before,  which  didn't 
improve  his  looks.  '  You  said  ive  just  nov/,'  says  I. 
'  Was  you  one  o'  them  ? ' 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


325 


" '  Of  course  I  was,'  says  he,  taniiu'  down  a  little, 
'  an'  I  'd  bin  one  o'  them  yet — if  not  food  for  worms 
by  this  time— if  it  hadn't  bin  for  a  dook  as  took 
pity  on  me.* 

"'What's  a  dook?'  says  I. 

"'A  dook?'  says  he.  'Why,  he's  a  dook,  you 
know ;  a  sort  o'  markis — somewheres  between  a  lord 
an'  a  king.  I  don't  know  zackly  where,  an'  hang 
me  if  I  care ;  but  they  're  a  bad  lot,  are  some  o'  them 
dooks— rich  as  Pharaoh,  king  o'  J'rus'lem,  an'  hard 
as  nails— though  I  'm  bound  for  to  say  they  ain't  all 
alike.  Some  on  'em 's  no  better  nor  costermongers, 
others  are  men ;  men  what  keeps  in  mind  that  the 
same  God  made  us  all  an'  will  call  us  all  to  the 
same  account,  an'  that  the  same  kind  o'  worms  '11 
finish  us  all  off  at  last.  But  this  dook  as  took  pity 
on  me  was  a  true  blue.  He  wasn't  one  o'  the  hard 
sort  as  didn't  care  a  rush  for  us  so  long'  as  his  own 
stummick  was  full.  Neether  was  he  one  o'  the 
butter-mouths  as  dursen't  say  bo  to  a  goose.  He 
spoke  out  to  me  like  a  man,  an'  he  knew  well 
enough  that  I  'd  bin  born  in  the  London  slums,  an' 
that  my  daddy  had  bin  born  there  before  me,  an' 
that  my  mother  had  caught  her  death  o'  cold 
through  havin'  to  pawn  her  only  pair  o'  boots  to 
pay  my  school  fees  an'  then  walk  barefutt  to  the 
court  in  a  winter  day  to  answer  for  not  sendin'  her 
boy  to  the  board  school — her  send  me  to  school ! — 
she  might  as  well  have  tried  to  send  daddy  himself ; 


IM 


11 


!■(▼     ' 


Uu 


326 


CHARLIE  TO  TIIH  RESCUE:   A  TALE 


an'  him  out  o'  work,  too,  an'  all  on  us  starvin'.  My 
dook,  when  he  hear  about  it  a'most  bust  wi'  passion. 
I  hear  'im  arterwards  talkin'  to  a  overseer,  or  some- 
body, "  confound  it,"  says  he — no,  not  quite  that,  for 
my  dook  he  never  swore,  only  he  said  &omethin' 
pretty  stiff — "  these  people  are  starvin',"  says  he, "  an' 
pawnin'  their  things  for  food  to  keep  *em  alive,  an' 
they  can't  git  work  nohow,"  says  he,  "  an'  yet  you 
worry  them  out  o'  body  an'  soul  for  school  fees ! "  '  I 
didn't  hear  no  more,  for  the  overseer  smoothed  'im 
down  somehows.  But  that  dook — that  good  Qucm, 
Hunky  Ben,  paid  my  passage  to  Ameriky,  an'  sent 
me  off  wi'  his  blessin'  an'  a  Bible.  Unfortnitly  I 
took  a  bottle  wi'  me,  an  when  I  got  to  the  other 
side  I  got  hold  of  another  bottle,  an'  another — an' 
there  stands  the  last  of  'em.' 

"  An'  wi'  that,  Mr.  Brooke,  he  fetched  the  bottle 
in  front  of  him  such  a  crack  wi'  his  fist  as  sent  it 
all  to  smash  against  the  opposite  wall. 

"  *  Well  done.  Screw ! '  cried  the  boy  at  the  bar, 
laughin' ;  *  have  another  bottle  ? ' 

"  Poor  Screw  smiled  in  a  sheepish  way,  for  the 
rile  was  out  of  him  by  that  time,  an',  says  he, '  "Well, 
I  don't  mind  if  I  do.  A  shot  like  that  deserves 
another!' 

"  Ah.  me ! "  continued  the  scout,  "  it  do  take  the 
manhood  out  of  a  fellow,  that  drink.  Even  when 
his  indignation 's  roused  and  he  tries  to  shake  it  off, 
he  can't  do  it." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


327 


' 


"  Well  do  I  know  that,  Ben.  It  is  only  God  who 
can  help  a  man  in  such  a  case." 

The  scout  gravely  shook  his  head.  "Seems  to 
me,  Mr.  Brooke,  that  there  's  a  screw  loose  some- 
wheres  in  our  theology,  for  I  've  heard  parsons  as  well 
as  you  say  that — as  if  the  Almighty  condescended 
to  help  us  only  when  we  're  in  bad  straits.  Now, 
though  I'm  but  a  scout  and  pretend  to  no  book 
larnin',  it  comes  in  strong  upon  me  that  if  God  made 
us  an*  measures  our  movements,  an'  gives  us  every 
beat  o'  the  pulse,  an'  counts  the  very  hairs  of  our 
heads,  we  stand  in  need  of  His  help  in  every  case 
and  at  all  times ;  that  we  can't  save  ourselves  from 
mischief  under  any  circumstances,  great  or  small, 
without  Him." 

"I  have  thought  of  that  too,  sometimes,"  said 
Charlie,  sitting  down  on  the  rock  beside  his  com- 
panion, and  looking  at  him  in  some  perplexity, "  but 
does  not  the  view  you  take  savour  somewhat  of 
fatalism,  and  seek  to  free  us  from  responsibility  in 
regard  to  what  we  do  ? " 

"  It  don't  seem  so  to  me,"  replied  the  scout,  "  I  'm 
not  speakin',  you  see,  so  much  of  doin'  as  of  escapin'. 
No  doubt  we  are  perfectly  free  to  will,  but  it  don't 
follow  that  we  are  free  to  act.  I  'm  quite  free  to 
%vill  to  cut  my  leg  off  or  to  let  it  stay  on ;  an'  if  I 
carry  out  my  will  an'  do  it,  why,  I'm  quite  free 
there  too — an'  also  responsible.  But  I  ain't  free  to 
sew  it  on  again  however  much  I  may  will  to  do  so 


328 


CIIAllLIE  TO  THK  UESCUK  :    A  TALE 


irn 


1 

1^  I 


— leastwise  if  I  do  it  won't  stick.  The  consekinces 
o'  my  deed  I  must  bear,  but  who  will  deny  that 
the  Almighty  could  grow  on  another  leg  if  He 
chose  ?  Why,  some  creeters  he  does  allow  to  get 
rid  of  a  limb  or  two,  an'  grow  new  ones  !  So,  you 
see,  I  'm  responsible  for  my  deeds,  but,  at  the  same 
time,  I  must  look  to  God  for  escape  from  the  con- 
sekinces, if  He  sees  fit  to  let  me  escape.  A  man, 
bein'  free,  may  drink  himself  into  a  drunkard,  but 
he 's  not  free  to  cure  himself.  He  can't  do  it.  The 
demon  Crave  has  got  him  by  the  throat,  forces  him 
to  open  his  mouth,  and  pours  the  fiery  poison  down. 
The  thing  that  he  is  free  to  do  is  to  will.  He  may, 
if  he  chooses,  call  upon  God  the  Saviour  to  help 
him ;  an'  my  own  belief  is  that  no  man  ever  made 
such  a  call  in  vain." 

"  How,  if  that  be  so,  are  we  to  account  for  the 
failure  of  those  who  try,  honestly  strive,  struggle, 
and  agonise,  yet  obviously  fail  ? " 

"  It 's  not  for  the  like  o'  me,  Mr.  Brooke,  to  ex- 
pound the  outs  an'  ins  o'  all  mysteries.  Yet  I  will 
p'int  out  that  you,  what  they  call,  beg  the  question 
when  you  say  that  such  people  'honestly'  strive. 
If  a  man  trios  to  unlock  a  door  with  all  his  midit 


and 


,  iieart  nrid  soul,  honestly  tries,  by  turnin' 
vrong  way,  he  '11  strive  till  doomsday 
in'  the  door  !  It 's  my  opinion  that  a 
mai.  y  j^.b  into  difficulties  of  his  own  free-will.  He 
car  get  out  of  them  only  by  applyin'  to  his  Maker." 


M 
.1 


OF  TllK  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


321) 


During  the  latter  part  of  this  couvCiSatioii  the 
hunters  had  risen  and  v/ere  making  their  way- 
through  the  trackless  woods,  when  the  scout  stopped 
suddenly  and  gazed  for  a  few  seconds  intently  at 
the  ground.  Then  he  kneeled  and  began  to  examine 
the  spot  with  great  care.  "A  footprint  here,"  he 
said,  "  that  tells  of  recent  visitors." 

"  Friends,  Ben,  or  foes  ? "  asked  our  hero,  also 
going  on  his  knees  to  examine  the  marks.  "  Well, 
now,  I  see  only  a  pressed  blade  or  two  of  grass,  but 
nothing  the  least  like  a  footprint.  It  puzzles  me 
more  than  I  can  tell  how  you  scouts  seem  so  sure 
about  invisible  marks." 

"Truly,  if  they  was  invisible  you  would  have 
reason  for  surprise,  but  my  wonder  is  that  you  don't 
see  them.  Any  child  in  wood-craft  might  read 
them.  See,  here  is  the  edge  o'  the  right  futt  making 
a  faint  impression  where  the  ground  is  soft — an'  the 
heel ;  surely  ye  see  the  heel !  " 

"  A  small  hollow  I  do  see,  but  as  to  its  being  a 
heel-print  I  could  not  pronounce  on  that.  Has  it 
been  made  lately,  think  you  1 " 

"  Ay,  last  night  or  this  morning  at  latest ;  and  it 
was  made  by  the  futt  of  Jake  the  Flint.  I  know  it 
well,  for  I  've  had  to  track  him  more  than  once  an' 
would  spot  it  among  a  thousand." 

"If  Jake  is  in  the  neighbourhood,  wouldn't  it  be 
well  to  return  to  the  cave  ?  He  and  some  of  his 
gang  might  attack  it  in  our  absence." 


330 


CHAULIH  TO  THE  IIKSCUE  :   A  "ALE 


!!}' 


?wii 


mm 


"  No  fear  o'  that,"  replied  the  scout,  risiug  from 
his  inspection,  the  "  futt  p'ints  away  from  the  cave. 
I  should  say  that  the  Flint  has  bin  there  durin'  the 
night,  an*  found  that  we  kep'  too  sharp  a  look-out 
to  be  caught  sleepin'.  Where  he  went  to  arter  that 
no  one  can  tell,  but  we  can  hoof  it  an'  see.  Like 
enough  he  went  to  spy  us  out  alone,  an'  then  re- 
turned to  his  comrades." 

So  saying,  the  scout  "  hoofed  it "  through  the 
woods  at  a  pace  that  tested  Charlie  Brooke's  powers 
of  endurance,  exceptionally  good  though  they  were. 
After  a  march  of  about  four  miles  in  comparative 
silence  they  were  conducted  by  the  footprints  to 
an  open  space  in  the  midst  of  dense  thicket, 
where  the  fresh  ashes  of  a  camp  fire  indicated  that 
a  party  had  spent  some  time. 

"Just  so.  They  came  to  see  what  was  up  and 
what  could  be  done,  found  that  nothin'  partiklar  was 
up  an'  nothin'  at  all  could  be  done,  so  olf  they  go, 
mounted,  to  fish  in  other  waters.   Just  as  well  for  us." 

"  But  not  so  well  for  the  fish  in  the  other  waters," 
remarked  Charlie. 

"True,  but  we  can't  help  that.  Come,  we  may 
as  well  return  now." 

While  Charlie  and  the  scout  were  thus  folio wi::fT 

O 

the  trail.  Buck  Tom,  lying  in  the  cave,  became 
suddenly  much  worse.  It  seemed  as  if  some  string 
in  his  system  had  suddenly  snapped  and  let  the 
poor  human  wreck  run  down. 


OF  THE  SEA.  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


331 


"  Come  here,  Leather,"  he  gasped  faintly. 

Poor  Shank,  who  never  left  him,  and  who  was 
preparing  food  for  him  at  the  time,  was  at  his  side 
in  a  moment,  and  bent  anxiously  over  hira. 

"  D'  you  want  anything  ? "  he  asked. 

*"  Nothing,  Shank.     Where 's  Dick  ?  " 

"Outside;  cutting  some  fii3wood." 

"Don't  call  him.  I'm  glad  we  are  alone,"  said 
the  outlaw,  seizing  his  friend's  hand  with  a  feeble, 
tremulous  grasp.  "I'm  dying,  Shank,  dear  boy. 
You  forgive  me  ? " 

"  Forgive  you,  Ealph !    Ay — long,  long  ago  I " 

He  could  not  finish  the  sentence. 

"I  know  you  did,  Shank,"  returned  the  dying 
man,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  How  it  will  fare  with 
me  hereafter  I  know  not.  I  've  but  one  word  to  say 
when  I  get  there,  and  that  is — guilty !  I — I  loved 
your  sister.  Shank.  Ay — you  never  guessed  it.  I 
only  tell  you  now  that  I  may  send  her  a  message. 
Tell  her  that  the  words  she  once  said  to  me  about  a 
Saviour  have  never  left  me.  They  are  like  a  light 
in  the  darkness  now.  God  bless  you — Shank — and 
—May." 

With  a  throbbing  heart  and  listening  ear  Shank 
waited  for  more ;  but  no  more  came.  The  hand  he 
still  held  was  lifeless,  and  the  spirit  of  the  outlaw 
had  entered  within  the  veil  of  that  mysterious 
Hereafter. 


332 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:   A  TALE 


i  I 


lit! 


CHAPTER    XXVIIL 

CHASE,   CAPTDIIE,  AND  END  OP  JAKK  THE  FLINT. 

It  was  growing  dark  when  Brooke  and  the  scout 
reached  the  cave  that  evenmg  and  found  that  Buck 
Tom  was  dead  ;  but  they  had  barely  time  to  realise 
the  fact  wlien  their  attention  was  diverted  by  the 
sudden  arrival  of  a  large  band  of  horsemen — cow- 
boys and  others — the  leader  of  whom  seemed  to  be 
the  cow-boy  Crux. 

Hunky  Ben  and  his  friends  had,  of  course,  made 
rapid  preparations  to  receive  them  as  foes,  if  need 
v/ere ;  but,  on  recognising  who  composed  the  caval- 
cade, they  went  out  to  meet  them. 

"  Hallo !  Hunky,"  shouted  Crux,  as  he  rode  up 
and  leaped  off  his  steed,  "  have  they  been  here  ? " 

"  Who  d'  ye  mean  ? "  demanded  the  scout. 

"  Why,  Jake  the  Flint,  to  be  sure,  an'  his  mur- 
derin'  gang.     Haven't  ye  heard  the  news  ? " 

"  Not  I.  Who  d'  ye  think  would  take  the  trouble 
to  come  up  here  with  noos  ? " 

"They've  got  clear  off,  boys,"  said  Crux,  in  a 
voice  of  great  disappointment.  "  So  we  must  off 
saddle,  an'  camp  where  we  are  for  the  night." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


333 


While  the  rest  of  the  party  dismounted  and  dis- 
persed to  look  for  a  suitable  camping-ground,  Crux 
explained  the  reason  of  their  unexpected  appearance. 

After  the  Flint  and  his  companions  had  left  their 
mountain  fastness,  as  before  described,  they  had 
appeared  in  different  parts  of  the  country  and  com- 
mitted various  depredations ;  some  of  their  robberies 
having  been  accompanied  with  bloodshed  and 
violence  of  a  nature  which  so  exasperated  the  people 
that  an  organised  band  had  at  length  been  gathered 
to  go  in  pursuit  of  the  daring  outlaw.  But  Jake 
was  somewhat  Napoleonic  in  his  character,  swift  in 
his  movements,  and  sudden  in  his  attacks  ;  so  that, 
while  his  exasperated  foes  were  searching  for  him  in 
one  direction,  news  would  be  brought  of  his  having 
committed  some  daring  and  bloody  deed  far  off  in 
some  other  quarter.  His  latest  acts  had  been  to 
kill  and  rob  a  post-runner,  who  happened  to  be 
a  great  favourite  in  his  locality,  and  to  attack 
and  murder,  in  mere  wanton  cruelty,  a  family  of 
friendly  Indians,  belonging  to  a  tribe  which  had 
never  given  the  whites  any  trouble.  The  luiy  of 
the  people,  therefore,  was  somewhat  commensurate 
with  the  wickedness  of  the  man.  They  resolved  to 
capture  him,  and,  as  there  was  a  number  of  resolute 
cow-boys  on  the  frontier,  to  whom  life  seemed  to  be 
a  bauble  to  be  played  with,  kept,  or  cast  lightly 
away,  according  to  circumstances,  it  seemed  as  if 
the  effort  made  at  this  time  would  be  successful. 


,  -•  ^ 


334 


CHAKLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


..      [ 


m 


The  latest  reports  that  seemed  reliable  were  to 
the  effect  that,  after  slaying  the  Indians,  Jake  and 
his  men  had  made  off  in  the  direction  of  his  old 
stronghold  at  the  head  of  Traitor's  Trap.  Hence 
the  invasion  by  Crux  and  his  band. 

"  You  '11  be  glad  to  hear — or  sorry,  I  'm  not  sure 
which — "  said  the  scout,  "  that  Buck  Tom  has  paid 
his  last  debt." 

"  What !  defunct  ? "  exclaimed  Crux. 

"  Ay.  Whatever  may  have  bin  his  true  character 
an'  deeds,  he 's  gone  to  his  account  at  last." 

"  Are  ye  sure,  Hunky  ? " 

"  If  ye  don't  believe  me,  go  in  there  an'  you  '11  see 
what 's  left  of  him.     The  corp  ain't  cold  yet." 

The  rugged  cow-boy  entered  at  once,  to  convince 
himself  by  ocular  demonstration. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  on  coming  out  of  the  cave, "  I  wish 
it  had  been  the  Flint  instead.  He  '11  give  us  some 
trouble,  you  bet,  afore  we  bring  him  to  lie  as  flat  as 
Buck  Tom.  Poor  Buck !  They  say  he  wasn't  a  bad 
chap  in  his  way,  an'  I  never  heard  of  his  bein'  cruel, 
like  his  comrades.  His  main  fault  was  castin'  in  his 
lot  wi*  the  Flint.  They  say  that  Jake  has  bin  carousin' 
around,  throwin'  the  town-folk  everywhere  into  fits." 

That  night  the  avengers  in  search  of  Jake  the 
Flint  slept  in  and  around  the  outlaws'  cave,  while 
the  chief  of  the  outlaws  lay  in  the  sleep  of  death  in 
a  shed  outside.  During  the  night  the  scout  went 
oat  to  see  that  the  body  was  undisturbed,  and  was 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


335 


startled  to  observe  a  creature  of  some  sort  movinrr 
near  it.  Ben  was  troubled  by  no  superstitious 
fears,  so  he  approached  with  the  stealthy,  cat-like 
tread  which  he  had  learned  to  perfection  in  his 
frontier  life.  Soon  he  was  near  enough  to  perceive, 
through  the  bushes,  that  the  form  was  that  of  Shank 
Leather,  silent  and  motionless,  seated  by  the  side  of 
Buck  Tom,  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands  upon 
his  knees.  A  deep  sob  broke  from  him  as  he  sat, 
and  again  he  was  silent  and  motionless.  The  scout 
withdrew  as  silently  as  he  had  approached,  leaving 
the  poor  youth  to  watch  and  mourn  over  the  friend 
who  had  shared  his  hopes  and  fears,  sins  and 
sorrows,  so  long— long  at  least  in  experience,  if  not 
in  numbered  years. 

Next  morning  at  daybreak  they  laid  the  outlaw 
in  his  last  resting-place,  and  then  the  avengers  pre- 
pared to  set  off  in  pursuit  of  his  comrades. 

"You'll  join  us,  I  fancy,"  said  Crux  to  Charlie 
Brooke. 

"  No ;  I  remain  with  my  sick  friend  Leatlier.  But 
perhaps  some  of  my  comrades  may  wish  to  go  with 
you." 

It  was  soon  arranged  that  Huiiky  Ben  and  Dick 
Darvall  should  join  the  party. 

"  We  won't  be  long  o'  catchin'  him  up,"  said  Crux, 
"for  the  Flint  has  become  desperate  of  late,  an' 
we  're  pretty  sure  of  a  man  when  he  gets  into  that 
fix." 


I) 


336 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


The  desperado  to  whom  Crux  referred  was  one  of 
those  terrible  human  monsters  who  may  be  termed 
a  growth  of  American  frontier  life,  men  who,  hav- 
ing apparently  lost  all  fear  of  God,  or  man,  or  death  ; 
carry  their  lives  about  with  hilarious  indifference, 
ready  to  risk  them  at  a  moment's  notice  on  the 
slightest  provocation,  and  to  take  the  lives  of  others 
without  a  shadow  of  compunction.  As  a  natural 
consequenc  ,  such  maniacs,  for  they  are  little  else,  are 
feared  by  all,  and  even  brave  men  feel  the  necessity 
of  being  unusually  careful  while  in  their  company. 

Among  the  various  wild  deeds  committed  by  Jake 
and  his  men  was  one  which  led  them  into  serious 
trouble  and  proved  fatal  to  their  chief.  Coming  to 
a  village,  or  small  town,  one  night,  they  resolved  to 
have  a  regular  spree,  and  for  this  purpose  encamped 
a  short  way  outside  the  town  till  it  should  be  quite 
dark.  About  midnight  the  outlaws,  to  the  number 
of  eight,  entered  the  town,  each  armed  with  a  Win- 
chester and  a  brace  of  revolvers.  Scattering  them- 
selves, they  began  a  tremendous  fusillade,  as  fast  as 
they  could  fire,  so  that  nearly  the  whole  population, 
supposing  the  place  was  attacked  by  Indians,  turned 
out  and  tied  to  the  mountains  behind  the  town.  The 
Flint  and  his  men  made  straight  for  the  chief  billiard- 
room,  which  they  found  deserted,  and  there,  after 
helping  themselves  to  all  the  loose  cash  available, 
they  began  to  drink.  Of  course  they  soon  became 
wild  under  the  influence  of  the  liquor,  but  retained 


: 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


337 


sense  enough  to  mount  their  horses  and  gallop  away 
before  the  people  of  the  place  mustered  courage  to 
return  and  attack  the  foe. 

It  was  while  galloping  madly  away  after  this  raid 
that  the  murderous  event  took  place  which  ended 
in  the  dispersal  of  the  gang. 

Daylight  was  creeping  over  the  land  when  the 
outlaws  left  the  town.  Jake  was  wild  with  excite- 
ment at  what  had  occurred,  as  well  as  with  drink, 
and  began  to  boast  and  swear  in  a  horrible  manner. 
When  they  had  ridden  a  good  many  miles,  one  of 
the  party  said  he  saw  some  Kedskins  in  a  clump  of 
wood  they  were  approaching. 

"  Did  ye  ? "  cried  Jake,  flourishing  his  rifle  over 
his  head  and  uttering  a  terrible  oath,  "then  I'll 
shoot  the  first  Eedskin  I  come  across." 

"  Better  not,  Jake,"  said  one  of  his  men.  "  They  're 
all  friendly  Injins  about  here." 

"  What 's  the  odds  to  me ! "  yelled  the  drunken 
wretch.  "  I  '11  shoot  the  firso  1  see  as  I  would  a 
rabbit." 

At  that  moment  they  were  passing  a  bluff  covered 
with  timber,  and,  unfortunately,  a  poor  old  Indian 
woman  came  out  of  the  wood  to  look  at  the  horse- 
men as  they  flew  past. 

Without  an  instant's  hesitation  Jake  swerved 
aside,  rode  straight  up  to  the  old  creature,  and  blew 
out  her  brains. 

Accustomed  as  they  were  to  deeds  of  violence 


'     ni 


338 


ClIAKLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


and  bloodshtjcl,  his  comrades  were  overwhelmed 
with  horror  at  this,  and,  fearing  the  consequences 
of  the  dastardly  murder,  rode  for  life  away  over  the 
plains. 

But  the  deed  had  been  witnessed  by  the  relatives 
of  the  poor  woman.  Without  sound  or  cry,  fifty 
Ked  men  leaped  on  their  horses  and  swept  with  the 
speed  of  light  along  the  other  side  of  the  bluff, 
which  concealed  them  from  the  white  men's  sight. 
Thus  they  managed  to  head  them,  and  when  Jake 
and  his  gang  came  to  the  end  of  the  strip  of  wood, 
the  Eed  men,  armed  with  rifle  and  revolver,  were 
in  front  of  them. 

There  was  something  deadly  and  unusual  in  the 
silence  of  the  Indians  on  this  occasion.  Concen- 
trated rage  seemed  to  have  stopped  their  power  to 
yell.  Swift  as  eagles  they  swooped  down  and  sur- 
rounded the  little  band  of  white  men,  who,  seeing 
that  opposition  would  be  useless,  and,  perhaps,  cowed 
by  the  sight  of  such  a  cold-blooded  act,  offered  no 
resistance  at  all,  while  their  arms  were  taken  from 
them. 

With  lips  white  from  passion,  the  Indian  chief  in 
command  demanded  who  did  the  deed.  The  out- 
laws pointed  to  Jake,  who  sat  on  his  horse  with 
glaring  eyes  and  half-open  mouth  like  one  stupefied. 
At  a  word  from  the  chief,  he  was  seized,  dragged  off 
his  horse,  and  held  fast  by  two  powerful  men  while 
a  third  bound  his  arms.     A  spear  was  driven  dee]} 


I 


OF  TllK  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


339 


Lined 
jnces 
:r  the 

itives 
,  fi% 
til  the 
bluff, 
sigW. 
a  Jake 
:  wood, 
r,  were 

I  in  the 


Doncen- 


ower  to 
md  sur- 
3,  seeing 
,  cowed 
fered  no 
^en  from 

chief  in 
The  out- 
)rse  with 
stupefied. 
L-agged  off 
lien  while 
iven  deei^ 


into  the  ground  to  serve  as  a  stake,  and  to  tliis  Juke 
was  tied.  He  made  no  resistance.  He  seemed  to 
have  been  paralysed,  and  remained  quite  passive 
while  they  stripped  him  naked  to  the  waist.  His 
comrades,  still  seated  on  their  horses,  seemed  incap- 
able of  action.  Tliey  had,  no  doubt,  a  presentiment 
of  what  was  coming. 

The  chief  then  drew  his  scalping  knife,  and 
passed  it  swiftly  round  the  neck  of  the  doomed  man 
so  as  to  make  a  slight  incision.  Grasping  the  llap 
raised  at  the  back  of  the  neck,  he  tore  a  broad  band 
of  skin  from  Jake's  body,  right  down  his  back  to 
his  waist.  A  fearful  yell  burst  from  the  lips  of  the 
wretched  man,  but  no  touch  of  pity  moved  the  hearts 
of  the  Eed  men,  whose  chief  prepared  to  tear  off 
another  strip  of  skin  from  the  quivering  flesh. 

At  the  same  moment  the  companions  of  the  Flint 
wheeled  their  horses  round,  and,  filled  with  horror, 
fled  at  full  speed  from  the  scene. 

The  Ked  men  did  not  attempt  to  hinder  them. 
There  was  no  feud  at  that  time  between  the  white 
men  and  that  particular  tribe.  It  was  only  the 
murderer  of  their  old  kinswoman  on  whom  they 
were  bent  on  wreaking  their  vengeance,  and  with 
terrible  cruelty  was  their  diabolical  deed  accom- 
plished. The  comrades  of  the  murderer,  left  free  to 
do  as  they  pleased,  scattered  as  they  fled,  as  if  each 
man  were  unable  to  endure  the  sight  of  the  other, 
and  they  never  again  drew  together. 


'  f 

\'  1 ' 

J[M 

t 

oll^m.IK  TO  -niii  uescuf,  :  a  t.u.e 


1(5 


340 

vt  , lav  Crux  aurthis  band  of  aven- 

Ou  the  very  next  day  Cr  ^^    ^^^j^^ 

ge.  were  ^f  »f  VJll^"^^^^^^^ 
straight  for  the  t»^"  ''""J'vhere  Crux  had  been 
i„to  such  consternatron    a^  -^  ^^^^^  „j  ,,, 

given  to  understand  that  tru   w     ^ 
Im'.  movements  would  V^^^  ^.„,, 

The  sun  was  «*"g'  ^''^  "i„  „„«  of  the  hand 
„s  streaming  over  ^^^''f'^^l^^Z^.,.,  wi.re 
suggested  that  :t  --  J  "rther  that  night. 
,,ey  were  than  to  pro        -y     ^^^^^^„  ^,^„, 

"  So  ^^«  ^f '  '^y;  y;  ,ye  fell  on  a  distant  object 
suitable  spot,  until  his  eye 
that  riveted  his  attention^  ^^^^^^^^^  ,^^, 

..  A  strange-lookmg   tl  iHo  ^^,„g 

—rJvrrnLn;:.»eer  Sight  inmy 

rS-t:— .Mowed  by  the  whole  cav- 

"''':t   ay.  bloody  work  bin  goin'  on  here.  I  see," 
^^tteredlhe  scout  as  they  drew  nea. 

"  ..  xhe  accursed  B^^^>-^ ' "  f  ^^^  ,\n  a^  body 
^e  need  scarcely  say  that  it  was  tl  ^^^ 

of  JaUe  they  had  thus  d— ^  ^    ^  ,,  J„u. 
^hich  was  nearly  broken  by  the  wei„ 


OF  TIIR  SKA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


341 


ven- 

king 

rowu 

been 

,f  the 

I. 

i  band 
where 
iiibt. 

D 

it  for  a 
i  object 

ied  tlie 
le  same 
standin' 
an  stand 
lit  in  my  . 

lid  Crux, 

aiglrt  for 

/hole  cav- 

3re,  I  see," 

IX. 

dead  body 
0  the  spear 
f  the  muti- 


lated carcass.  Besides  tearing  most  of  the  skin  off 
tlie  wretched  man's  body,  the  savages  had  scal])cd 
Jake ;  but  a  deep  wound  over  the  region  of  the 
heart  showed  that  they  had,  at  all  events,  ended  his 
sufferings  before  they  left  him. 

While  the  avengers — whose  vengeance  was  thus 
forestalled — were  busy  scraping  a  shallow  grave  for 
the  remains  of  the  outlaw,  a  shout  was  raised  by 
several  of  the  party  who  dashed  after  something 
into  a  neighbouring  copse.  An  Indian  had  been 
discovered  there,  and  the  cruelties  which  had  been 
practised  on  the  white  man  had,  to  a  great  extent, 
transferred  their  wrath  from  the  outlaw  to  his 
murderers.  But  they  found  that  the  rush  was 
needless,  for  the  Indian  who  had  been  observed 
was  seated  on  the  ground  beside  what  appeared  to 
be  a  newly  formed  grave,  and  he  made  no  attempt 
to  escape. 

He  was  a  very  old  and  feeble  man,  yet  something 
of  the  fire  of  the  warrior  gleamed  from  his  sunken 
eyes  as  he  stood  up  and  tried  to  raise  his  bent  form 
into  an  attitude  of  proud  defiance. 

"  Do  you  belong  to  the  tribe  that  killed  this  white 
man  ? "  said  Hunky  Ben,  whose  knowledge  of  most 
of  the  Indian  dialects  rendered  him  the  fitting 
spokesman  of  the  party. 

"  I  do,"  answered  the  Indian  in  a  stern  yet 
quavering  voice  that  seemed  very  pitiful,  for  it  was 
evident  that  the  old  man  thought  Ir*^  last  hour  had 


^»- 


342 


CllAHLTE  TO  THE  KESCUE  :   A  TALE 


come,  and  tliat  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  die  as 
became  a  dauntless  Indian  brave. 

At  that  moment  a  little  Indian  girl,  who  had 
hitherto  lain  quite  concealed  in  the  tangled  grass, 
started  up  like  a  rabbit  from  its  lair  and  dashed 
into  the  thicket.  Swiftly  though  the  child  ran, 
however,  one  of  the  young  men  of  the  party  was 
swifter.  He  sprang  off'  in  pursuit,  and  in  a  few 
moments  brought  her  back. 

"Your  tribe  is  not  at  war  with  tlie  pale-faces," 
continued  the  scout,  taking  no  notice  of  this  episode. 
"  They  have  been  needlessly  cruel." 

For  some  moments  the  old  man  gazed  ^ternly  at 
his  questioner  as  if  he  heard  him  not.  Then  the 
frown  darkened,  and,  pointing  to  the  grave  at  his 
feet,  he  said — 

"  The  white  man  was  more  cruel." 

"  What  had  he  done  ? "  asked  the  scout. 

But  the  old  man  would  not  reply.  There  came 
over  his  withered  features  that  stony  stare  of  resolute 
contempt  which  he  evidently  intended  to  maintain 
to  the  last  in  spite  of  torture  and  death. 

"  Better  question  the  child,"  suggested  Dick 
Darvall,  who  up  to  that  moment  had  been  too  much 
horrified  by  what  he  had  witnessed  to  be  able  to 
speak. 

The  scout  looked  at  the  child.  She  stood  trem- 
bling beside  her  captor,  with  evidences  of  intense 
terror  on  her  dusky  countenance,  for  she  was  only 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


343 


too  well  acciistomed  to  the  cruelties  practised  by 
-  white  men  and  red  on  each  other  to  have  any  hope 
either  for  the  old  man  or  herself. 

"  Poor  thing  ! "  said  Hunky  Ben,  laying  his  strong 
hand  tenderly  on  the  girl's  head.  Then,  taking  her 
hand,  he  led  her  gently  aside,  and  spoke  to  her  in 
her  own  tongue. 

There  was  something  so  unexpectedly  soft  in  the 
scout's  voice,  and  so  tender  in  his  touch,  that  tlie 
little  brown  maid  was  irresistibly  comforted.  When 
one  falls  into  the  grasp  of  Goodness  and  Strength, 
relief  of  mind,  more  or  less,  is  an  inevitable  result. 
David  thought  so  when  he  said,  "  Let  me  fall  now 
into  the  hand  of  the  Lord."  The  Indian  child  evi- 
dently thought  so  when  she  felt  that  Hunky  Ben 
was  strong  and  perceived  that  he  was  good. 

"We  will  not  hurt  you,  my  little  one,"  said  the 
scout,  when  he  had  reached  a  retired  part  of  the 
copse,  and,  sitting  down,  placed  the  child  on  his 
knee.  "The  white  man  wlio  was  killed  by  your 
people  was  a  very  bad  man.  We  were  looking  for 
him  to  kill  him.  Was  it  the  old  man  that  killed 
him  ? " 

"No,"  replied  the  child,  "it  was  the  chief." 

"  Why  was  he  so  cruel  in  his  killing  ? "  asked  the 
scout. 

"Because  the  white  man  was  a  coward.  He 
feared  to  face  our  warriors,  but  he  shot  an  old 
woman!"  answered  the  little  maid;  and  then,  in- 


i^ 


i    .  J 


:4>   ' 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  IlESCUE  :   A  TALE 

spired  with  confidence  by  the  scout's  kind  and 
pitiful  expression,  she  related  the  whole  story  of 
the  savage  and  wanton  murder  perpetrated  by  the 
Flint,  the  subsequent  vengeance  of  her  people,  and 
the  unchecked  flight  and  dispersion  of  Jake's  com- 
rades. The  old  woman  who  had  been  slaiu;  she 
said,  was  her  grandmother,  and  the  old  man  who 
had  been  captured  was  her  grandfather. 

"Friends,  our  business  has  been  done  for  us," 
said  the  scout  on  rejoining  his  comrades,  "  so  we  've 
nothing  to  do  but  return  home." 

He  then  told  them  in  detail  what  the  Indian 
girl  had  related. 

"  Of  course,"  he  added,  "  we  've  no  right  to  find 
fault  wi'  the  Redskins  for  piiiiishin*  the  murderer 
arter  their  own  fashion,  though  we  might  wish  they 
had  bin  somewhat  more  merciful " 

"No,  we  mightn't,"  interrupted  Crux  stoutly. 
"The  Flint  got  off  easy  in  mij  opinion.  If  I  had 
had  the  doin'  o'c,  I  'd  have  roasted  him  alive." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,  Crux,"  returned  Bon,  with  a 
benignant  smile.  "  Young  chaps  like  you  are  always, 
accordin'  to  your  own  sliowin',  worse  than  the  devil 
himself  when  your  blood's  roused  by  indignation  at 
cruelty  or  injustice,  but  you  sing  a  good  deal  softer 
when  you  come  to  the  scratch  with  your  enemy  in 
your  power." 

"You  're  wrong,  Hunky  Ben,"  retortod  Crux  iiriuly. 
"  Any  man  as  would  l)low  the  brains  out  of  a  poor 


mn 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


345 


old  woman  in  cold  blood,  as  the  Hint  did,  desarves 
the  worst  that  can  be  done  to  him." 

"I  didn't  say  nowt  about  what  he  desarves," 
returned  the  scout ;  "  I  was  speakin'  about  what  yoit 
would  do  if  you'd  got  the  killin'  of  him." 

"Well,  well,  mates,"  said  Dick  Darvall,  a  little 
impatiently,  "  seems  to  me  that  we  're  wastin'  our 
wind,  for  the  miserable  wretch,  bein'  defunct,  is 
beyond  the  malice  o'  red  man  or  white.  I  there- 
fore vote  that  we  stop  palaverin',  'bout  ship,  clap 
on  all  sail  an'  lay  our  course  for  home." 

This  suggestion  met  with  general  approval,  and  the 
curiL  as  mixture  of  men  and  races,  which  had  thus 
for  a  brief  period  been  banded  together  under  the 
influence  of  a  united  purpose,  prepared  to  break   ip. 

"  I  suppose  you  an'  Darvall  will  make  tracks  for 
Traitor's  Trap,"  said  Crux  to  Hunky  Ben. 

"That's  my  trail  to  be,"  answered  the  scout. 
"  What  say  you.  Black  Polly  ?  Are  ye  game  for 
such  a  spin  to-night  ? " 

The  mare  arched  her  glossy  neck,  put  back  both 
ears,  and  gave  other  indications  that  she  would  have 
fully  appreciated  the  remarks  of  her  master  if  she 
had  only  understood  them. 

"  Ah  !  Bluefire  and  I  don't  talk  in  that  style,"  said 
Crux,  with  a  laugh.  "  I  give  him  liis  orders  an'  he 
knows  that  he 's  got  to  obey.  He  and  I  will  make 
a  bee-line  for  David's  Store  an'  have  a  drink. 
AV  ho  '11  keep  me  company  ? " 


fl 


i  tii 


^ 


346 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


Several  of  the  more  reckless  among  the  men  in- 
timated their  willingness^  to  join  the  toper.  The 
rest  said  they  had  other  business  on  hand  than  to 
go  carousin'  around. 

"  Why,  Crux,"  said  one  who  had  been  a  very 
lively  member  of  the  party  during  the  ride  out, 
" d'ye  know,  boy,  that  it 's  writ  in  the  book  o'  Fate 
that  you  an'  I  an'  all  of  us,  have  just  got  so  many 
beats  o'  the  pulse  allowed  us — no  more  an'  no  less 
— an'  we  're  free  to  run  the  beats  out  fast  or  slow, 
just  as  we  like?  There's  notliin'  like  drink  for 
makin'  em  go  fast ! 

"  I  don't  believe  that,  Kobin  Stout,"  returned  Crux ; 
"  an'  even  if  I  did  believe  it  I  'd  go  on  just  the  same, 
for  I  prefer  a  short  life  and  a  merry  one  to  a  long 
life  an'  a  wishywashy  miserable  one." 

"Hear  !  hear  !"  exclaimed  several  of  the  topers. 

"Don't  ye  think,  Orux,"  interposed  Darvall, 
"  that  a  long  life  an'  a  happy  one  might  be  better 
than  either?" 

"  Hear !  hear ! "  remarked  Hunky  Ben,  with  a 
quiet  laugh. 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  one  fine  bright-looking  young 
fellow,  patting  the  neck  of  his  pony,  "  wliether  my 
life  is  to  be  long  or  short,  merry,  wishywashy  or 
happy,  I  shall  be  off  cow-punching  for  the  next  six 
months  or  so,  somewhere  about  the  African  bend, 
on  the  Colorado  Kiver,  in  South  Texas,  an'  I  mean 
to   try   an'   keep  my  pulse  a-goin'  vnthout  drink. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


347 


I  've  seen  more  tliau  enough  o'  the  curse  that  comes 
to  us  all  on  account  of  it,  and  I  won't  be  cauglit  in 
that  trap  again." 

"  Then  you  've  bin  caught  in  it  once  already,  Jo 
Pinto  ? "  said  a  comrade. 

"  Ay,  I  just  have,  but,  you  bet,  it 's  the  last  time. 
I  don't  J3e  the  fun  of  makin'  my  veins  a  channel 
foi-  lirevv'ater,  and  then  finishin'  off  with  D.  T.,  if 
bullet  or  knife  should  leave  me  to  go  that  length." 

"  I  suppose,  Pinto,"  said  Crux,  with  a  smile  of 
contempt,  "  that  you  've  bin  to  hear  that  mad  fellow 
Gough,  who 's  bin  howlin'  around  in  these  parts  of 
late?" 

"  That 's  so,"  retorted  Pinto,  flushing  with  sudden 
anger.  "  I  've  been  to  hear  J.  B.  Gough,  an'  what 's 
more  I  mean  to  take  his  advice  in  spite  of  all  the 
flap-jack  soakers  'tween  the  Atlantic  and  the 
Rockies.  He 's  a  true  man,  is  Gough,  every  inch  of 
him,  and  men  and  women  that 's  bin  used  chieflv 
to  cursin'  in  time  past  have  heaped  more  blessin's 
on  that  man's  head  than  would  sink  you.  Crux, — if 
put  by  mistake  on  yoior  head — right  tlirough  the 
lowest  end  o'  the  bottomless  pit." 

"  Pretty  deep  that,  anyhow ! "  exclaimed  Crux, 
with  a  careless  laugh,  for  he  had  no  mind  to  quarrel 
with  the  stout  young  cow-boy  >vhose  black  eyeri  he 
had  made  to  flash  so  lieenly. 

**  It  seems  to  me,"  said  another  of  the  band,  as  he 
hun^i"  the  coils  of  his  lasso  round  tlie  horn  of  his 


i  ,1. 


iisais-.  tiasMsmgiiist^fi^ 


i' 


»i; 


348 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


Mexican  saddle,  "  that  we  must  quit  talkiii'  unless 
we  make  up  our  minds  to  stop  here  till  sun-up. 
Who's  goin'  north?  My  old  boss  is  financially 
busted,  so  I've  hired  to  P.  T.  Granger,  who  has 
started  a  new  ranch  at  the  head  o'  Pugit's  Creek. 
He  wants  one  or  two  good  hands  I  know,  an'  I  've 
reason  to  believe  he  *s  an  honest  man.  I  go  up  trail 
at  thirty  dollars  per  month.  The  outfit 's  to  consist 
of  thirty  hundred  head  of  Texas  steers,  a  chuck 
wagon  and  cook,  with  thirty  riders  includin'  the 
boss  himself  an'  six  hirses  to  the  man." 

A  couple  cf  stout-looking  cow-boys  offered  to  join 
the  last  speaker  on  the  strength  of  his  representa- 
tions, and  then,  as  the  night  bid  fair  to  be  bright 
and  calm,  the  whole  band  scattered  and  galloped 
away  in  separate  grcaps  over  the  moon-Ft  plains. 


iiEC¥^tCJM&Mca«?i>^«  "it  ,v^^jBMHb^ 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


349 


iiless 
i-iip. 
daily 
f  has 
reek. 
I've 
trail 
•nsist 
huck 
the 

)join 
enta- 
>right 
loped 
lis. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

TIIKY   RKTUHN  TO  TIIF   IIANCII   OF  ROARING  BULL,    WHERK 
SOMKTIllNG  SERIOUS   IIAITENS  TO  DICK  DAllVALL. 

When  Dick  Darvall  and  Huiiky  lien  returned 
from  the  expedition  which  we  have  just  described, 
they  found  all  right  at  the  cave,  except  that  a  letter 
to  Leather  had  been  sent  up  from  Bull's  ranch 
which  had  caused  him  much  grief  and  anxiety. 

"  I  have  been  eagerly  awaiting  your  return,  Ben," 
said  Charlie  Brooke,  when  he  and  the  scout  went 
outside  the  cave  to  talk  the  matter  over,  "  for  the 
news  in  this  letter  has  thrown  poor  Leatlier  back 
considerably,  and,  as  he  will  continue  to  fret  about 
it  and  get  worse,  something  must  be  done." 

He  paused  for  a  few  moments,  and  the  scout 
gravely  waited  for  liim  to  resume. 

"The  fact  is,"  continued  Charlie,  "that  poor 
Leather's  father  has  been  given  far  too  much  to  the 
bottle  during  a  great  part  of  his  life,  and  the  letter 
just  received  tells  us  that  he  has  suddenly  left  home 
and  gone  no  one  knows  where.  Kovv,  my  friend 
Leather  and  his  father  were  always  very  fond  of 
each  other,  and  the  son  cannot  forgive  himself  for 


^tfC'-^^; 


350 


CHARM  !<:  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


having  at  various  times  rather  encouraged  his  father 
in  drinking,  so  that  his  conscience  is  reproaching 
him  terribly,  as  you  may  well  believe,  and  he  insists 
on  it  that  he  is  now  quite  able  to  undertake  the 
voyage  home.  You  and  I  know,  Ben,  that  in  his 
present  state  it  would  be  madness  for  him  to 
attempt  it ;  yet  to  lie  and  fret  here  would  be  almost 
as  bad.     Now,  what  is  your  advice  ? " 

For  some  moments  the  scout  stood  silent  with 
his  eyes  on  the  ground  and  his  right  hand  grasping 
his  chin — his  usual  attitude  when  engaged  in 
meditation. 

"  Is  there  enough  o'  dollars,"  he  asked,  "  to  let  you 
do  as  ye  like  ? " 

"No  lack  of  dollars,  I  dare  say,  when  needed," 
replied  Charlie. 

"  Then  my  advice,"  returned  the  scout  promptly, 
"is  to  take  Leather  straight  off  to-morrow  mornin' 
to  Bull's  ranch ;  make  him  comfortable  there,  call 
him  Mister  Shank, — so  as  nobody  '11  think  he 's  been 
the  man  called  Leather,  who  's  bin  so  long  ill  along 
wi'  poor  Buck  Tom's  gang, — and  then  you  go  off  to 
old  England  to  follow  his  father's  trail  till  you  find 
him.  Leather  has  great  belief  in  you,  sir,  and  the 
feelin'  that  you  are  away  doin'  your  best  for  him 
will  do  more  to  relieve  his  mind  and  strengthen  his 
body  than  tons  o'  doctor's  stuff.  Dick  Darvall 
could  remain  to  take  care  of  him  if  he  has  no 
objection." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


351 


"  I  rather  think  he  would  be  well  pleased  to  do 
so,"  replied  Charlie,  with  a  laugh  of  significance, 
which  the  scout  quietly  subjected  to  analysis  in 
what  he  styled  his  brain-pan,  and  made  a  note  of 
the  result  in  his  mental  memorandum  book  ! 

"  But  I  doubt  if  Leather " 

"  Shank,"  interrupted  the  scout.  "  Call  him 
Shank  from  now,  so 's  we  may  all  git  used  to  it ; 
tho'  p'r'aps  it  ain't  o'  much  importance,  for  most  o' 
the  men  that  saw  him  here  saw  him  in  uncommon 
bad  condition  an'  would  hardly  know  him  again, 
besides,  they  won't  likely  be  at  Bull's  ranch,  an' 
the  captain  an'  troops  that  were  here  have  been 
ordered  down  south.  Still  one  can  never  be  too 
careful  when  life  and  death  may  be  i'  the  balance. 
Your  friend  niver  was  one  o'  the  outlaws,  but  it 
mightn't  be  easy  to  prove  that." 

"  Well,  then,"  resumed  our  hero,  "  I  was  going  to 
say  that  I  fear  Shank  won't  be  able  to  stand  the 
journey  even  to  the  ranch." 

"'No  fear  of  that,  sir.  We'll  carry  him  down  to 
the  foot  o'  the  Trap,  an'  when  we  git  out  on 
the  plain  mount  him  on  one  o'  the  horses  left  by 
poor  Buck — the  one  that  goes  along  so  quiet  that 
they  've  given  it  the  name  o'  the  Wheelbarrow." 

"  Should  I  speak  to  him  to-night  about  our  plan, 
Ben  ? " 

"  No.  If  1  was  you  I  'd  only  say  we  're  goin'  to 
take    him    down   to   Bull's   ranch   i'   llie   mornin'. 


i 


'    {' 


*f^^^ 


n 


352 


GIIAKUE  TO  THE  IJESCUK  :   A  TALE 


!ii|!i 


VHi 


That'll  take  his  mind  a  bit  off  the  letter,  an'  then 
it  '11  give  him  an  extra  lift  when  you  tell  him  the 
rest  o'  the  plan." 

In  accordance  with  this  arrangement,  on  the 
following  morning  a  litter  was  made  with  two  stout 
poles  and  a  blanket  between.  On  this  the  invalid 
was  laid  after  an  early  breakfast ;  another  blanket 
was  spread  over  him,  and  the  scout  and  Dick,  taking 
it  up  between  them,  carried  him  out  of  Traitor's 
Trap,  while  Charlie  Brooke,  riding  Jackson's  horse, 
led  the  Wheelbarrow  by  the  bridle.  As  for  Black 
Polly,  she  was  left  to  follow  at  her  own  convenience, 
a  whistle  from  Hunky  Ben  being  at  any  moment 
sufficient  to  bring  her  promptly  to  her  master's  side. 

On  reaching  the  plain  the  litter  was  laid  aside, 
the  blankets  were  fastened  to  the  horses,  and  Shank 
prepared,  as  Dick  said,  to  board  Wheelbarrow. 

"  Now  then,  Shank,"  said  the  seaman,  while  helping 
his  friend,  "  don't  be  in  a  hurry.  Ncthin'  w-is  ever 
done  well  in  a  hurry  cither  afloat  or  ashore.  Git 
your  futt  well  into  the  stirrup  an'  don't  take  too 
much  of  a  spring,  else  you  '11  be  apt  to  go  right  over 
on  the  starboard  side.     Hup  you  go  ! " 

The  worthy  sailor  lent  such  willing  aid  that  there 
is  little  doubt  he  would  have  precipitated  the  cata- 
strophe against  which  he  warned,  had  not  Hunky 
Ben  placed  himself  on  the  "  starboard  side "  of  the 
steed  and  counteracted  the  heave.  After  that  all 
went  well;    the  amble  of  the  Wheelbarrow  fully 


■.,  j.,-,-i-...;5,:.iiMM^>  lilllllllin 


OF  THE  SFA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


353 


justified  the  title,  and  in  due  course  the  party 
arrived  at  the  ranch  of  Eoaring  Bull,  where  the 
poor  invalid  was  confined  to  his  room  for  a  consider- 
able time  thereafter,  and  became  known  at  the  ranch 
as  Mr.  Shank. 

One  evening  Charlie  Brooke  entered  the  kitchen 
of  the  ranch  in  search  of  his  friend  Dick  Darvall, 
who  had  a  strange  fondness  for  Buttercup,  and 
frequently  held  converse  with  her  in  the  regions  of 
the  back-kitchen. 

"  I  dun  know  whar  he  is,  massa  Book,"  answered 
the  sable  beauty  when  appealed  to,  "  he 's  mostly 
souiewhar'  around  when  he 's  not  nowhar  else." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was,"  returned  Charlie 
with  a  hopeful  smile.  "  I  suppose  Miss  Mary 's  not 
around  anywhere,  is  she  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn'u  wonder  if  she  wasn't ;  but  she  ain't 
here,  massa,"  said  the  black  maid  earnestly. 

"You  are  a  truthful  girl.  Butter — stick  to  that, 
and  you  '11  get  on  in  life." 

With  this  piece  of  advice  Cliarlie  left  the  kitchen 
abruptly,  and  thereby  missed  the  eruption  of  teeth 
and  gums  that  immediately  followed  his  remark. 

Making  his  way  to  the  chamber  of  his  sick  friend, 
Charlie  sat  down  at  the  open  window  beside  him. 

"  How  d'  you  feel  this  evening,  my  boy  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  A  little  better,  but — oli  dear  me  ! — I  begin  to 
despair  of  getting  well  enough  to  go  home,  and  it's 

z 


•i'li 


354 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  UESCUE :   A  TALE 


':I^Ht 


iiupossihlo  to  avoid  beiiit;  worried,  fur  unless  father 
is  soiiglit  for  and  found  soon  lie  will  probably  sink 
altogether.  You  have  no  idea,  Charlie,  what  a  fear- 
ful temptation  drink  becomes  to  those  who  have  once 
given  way  to  it  and  passed  a  certain  point." 

"I  don't  know  it  personally — though  I  take  no 
credit  for  that — but  I  have  some  idea  of  it,  I  think, 
from  what  I  have  seen  and  heard.  But  I  came  to 
relieve  your  mind  on  the  sul)ject,  Shank.  I  wanted 
to  speak  with  Dick  Darvall  first  to  see  if  he  would 
fall  in  with  my  plan,  but  as  I  can't  find  him  just 
now  I  thought  it  best  to  come  straight  to  you  about 
it.     Hallo  !    There  is  Dick." 

"  Where  ?"  said  Shank,  bending  forward  so  as  to 
see  the  place  on  which  his  friend's  eyes  were  fixed. 

"  There,  don't  you  see  1  Look  across  that  bit  of 
green  sward,  about  fifty  yards  into  the  bush,  close 
to  that  lopped  pine  where  a  thick  shrub  overhangs 
a  fallen  tree " 

"  I  see — I  see ! "  exclaimed  Shank,  a  gleeful  ex- 
pression banishing  for  a  time  the  look  of  suffering 
and  anxiety  that  had  become  habitual  to  him. 
"  Why,  the  fellow  is  seated  beside  Mary  Jackson ! " 

"Ay,  and  holding  a  very  earnest  conversation 
with  her,  to  judge  from  his  attitude,"  said  Charlie. 
"  Probably  inquiring  into  the  market-price  of  steers 
— or  some  absorbing  toi)ic  of  that  sort." 

"  He 's  grasping  her  hand  now ! "  exclaimed 
Shank,  with  an  expanding  mout!i. 


OF  TIIK  SEA  AND  TIIK  UOCKIKS. 


355 


a\  ex- 
fering 
him. 
on  1 " 


"And  slie  lets  him  liold  it.  Really  this  becomes 
interesting,"  observed  Charlie,  with  gravity.  "  Ihit, 
my  friend,  is  not  this  a  species  of  eavesdropping? 
Are  we  not  taking  mean  advantage  of  a  pair  who 
fondly  think  themselves  alone  ?  Come,  Shank,  let 
us  turn  our  backs  on  the  view  and  try  to  fix  our 
minds  on  matters  of  personal  interest." 

But  the  young  men  had  not  to  subject  themselves 
to  such  a  delicate  test  of  friendship,  for  before  they 
could  make  any  attempt  to  carry  out  the  suggestion, 
Dick  and  Mary  were  seen  to  rise  abruptly  and 
hasten  from  the  spot  in  different  directions.  A  few 
minutes  later  Buttercup  was  observed  to  glide  upon 
the  scene  and  sit  down  upon  the  self-same  fallen 
tree.  The  distance  from  the  bedroom  window  was 
too  great  to  permit  of  sounds  reaching  the  observers' 
ears,  or  of  facial  contortions  meeting  their  eyes  very 
distinctlv,  but  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  the 
feelings  of  the  damsel,  or  the  meaning  of  those 
swayings  to  and  fro  of  her  body,  the  throwing  back 
of  her  head,  and  the  pressing  of  her  hands  on  her 
sides.  Suddenly  she  held  out  a  black  hand  as  if 
inviting  some  one  in  the  bush  to  draw  near.  The 
invitation  was  promptly  accepted  by  a  large  brown 
dog — a  well-known  favourite  in  the  ranch  house- 
hold. 

Rover — for  such  was  his  name — leaped  on  the 
fallen  tree  and  sat  down  on  the  spot  which  had 
previously  been  occupied  by  the  fair  Mary.     The 


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356 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


position  was  evidently  suggestive,  for  Buttercup 
immediately  began  to  gesticulate  and  clasp  her 
hands  as  if  talking  very  earnestly  to  the  dog. 

"  I  verily  believe,"  said  Shank,  "  that  the  blacking- 
ball  is  re-enacting  the  scene  with  Kover  !  See !  she 
grasps  his  paw,  and " 

"  My  friend,"  said  Charlie,  "  we  are  taking  mean 
advantage  again !  And,  behold !  like  the  olher  pair, 
they  are  flitting  from  the  scene,  though  not  quite 
in  the  same  fashion." 

This  was  true,  for  Buttercup,  reflecting,  probably, 
that  she  might  be  missed  in  the  kitchen,  had 
suddenly  tumbled  Eover  off  the  tree  and  darted 
swiftly  from  the  spot. 

"  Come  now.  Shank,"  said  Charlie,  resuming  the 
thread  of  discourse  which  had  been  interrupted, 
"  it  is  quite  plain  to  iJick  and  to  myself  that  you 
are  unfit  to  travel  home  in  your  present  state 
of  health,  so  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  leave  you 
here  in  the  care  of  honest  Jackson  and  Darvall,  and 
to  go  home  myself  to  make  inquiries  and  search  for 
your  father.  Will  this  make  your  mind  easy  ?  For 
that  is  essential  to  your  recovery  at  the  present 
time." 

"You  were  always  kind  and  self-sacrificing, 
Charlie.  Assuredly,  your  going  will  take  an  enormous 
\,  ^ight  off  my  mind,  for  you  are  much  better  fitted 
by  nature  for  such  a  search  than  I  am — to  say 
nothing  of  health.     Thank  you,  my  dear  old  boy,  a 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  EOCKIES. 


357 


thousand  times.  As  for  Dick  Darvall,"  added 
Shank,  with  a  laugh,  "  before  this  evening  I  would 
have  doubted  whether  he  would  be  willing  to  remain 
with  me  after  your  departure,  but  I  have  no  doubt 
now— considering  what  we  have  just  witnessed ! " 

"Yes,  he  has  found  'metal  more  attractive,'" 
said  Charlie,  rising.  "I  will  now  go  and  consult 
with  him,  after  which  I  will  depart  without 
delay." 

"You've  been  having  a  gallop,  to  judge  from 
your  heightened  colour  and  flashing  eyes,"  said 
Charlie  to  Dick  when  they  met  in  the  yard,  half- 
an-hour  later. 

"ISr— no— not  exactly,"  returned  the  seaman,  with 
a  slightly  embarrassed  air.  "The  fact  is  I've  bin 
cruisin'  about  in  the  bush." 

"  What !  lookin'  for  Eedskins  ? " 

"  IST— no ;  not  exactly,  but " 

"Oh:  I  see.  Out  huutin',  I  suppose.  After 
deer — eh  ? " 

"Well,  now,  that  was  a  pretty  fair  guess, 
Charlie,"  said  Dick,  laughing.  "  To  tell  ye  the  plain 
truth,  I  have  been  out  arter  a  dear— full  sail-— 
an' " 

"  And  you  bagged  it,  of  course.  Fairly  run  it 
down,  I  suppose."  said  his  friend,  again  interrupting. 

"Well,  there  ain't  no  'of  course'  about  it,  but 
as  it  happened,  I  did  manage  to  overhaul  her,  and 
coming  to  close  quarters,  I " 


358 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


III 


l!f.. 


"Yes,  yes,  /  know,"  interrupted  Charlie  a  third 
time,  with  provoking  coolness.  *'  You  ran  her  on 
to  the  rocks,  Dick — which  was  unseamanlike  in 
the  extreme — at  least  you  ran  the  dear  aground  on 
a  fallen  tree  and,  sitting  down  beside  it,  asked  it 
to  become  Mrs.  Darvall,  and  the  amiable  creature 
agreed,  eh  ? " 

"Why,  how  on  earth  did  'ee  come  for  to  know 
that  ? "  asked  Dick,  in  blazing  astonishment. 

"  Weil,  you  know,  there 's  no  great  mystery  about 
it.  If  a  bold  sailor  loill  go  huntin'  close  to  the 
house,  and  run  down  his  game  right  in  front  of 
Mr.  Shank's  windows,  he  must  expect  to  have 
witnesses.  However,  give  me  your  flipper,  mess- 
mate, and  let  me  congratulate  yoLi,  for  in  my  opinion 
there 's  not  such  another  dear  on  all  the  slopes  of 
the  Eocky  Mountains.  But  now  that  I  've  found  you, 
I  want  to  lay  some  of  my  future  plans  before  you." 

They  had  not  been  discussing  these  plans  many 
minutes,  when  Mary  was  seen  crossing  the  yard  in 
company  with  Hunky  Ben. 

"If  Hunky  would  only  stop,  we'd  keep  quite 
jolly  till  you  return,"  observed  Dick,  in  an  under- 
tone as  the  two  approached. 

"We  were  just  talking  of  you,  Ben,"  observed 
Charlie,  as  they  came  up. 

"  Are  you  goin'  for  a  cruise,  Miss  Mary  ? "  asked 
the  seaman  in  a  manner  that  drew  the  scout's 
attention. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


359 


"  No,"  replied  Mary  with  a  little  laugh,  and  any- 
thing but  a  little  blush,  that  intensified  the  attention 
of  the  scout.  He  gave  one  of  his  quiet  but  quick 
glances  at  Dick  and  chuckled  softly. 

"  So  soon ! "  he  murmured  to  himself ;  "  sartinly 
your  sea-dog  is  pretty  slick  at  such  matters." 

Dick  thought  he  heard  the  chuckle  and  turned 
a  lightning  glance  on  the  scout,  but  that  sturdy 
son  of  the  forest  had  his  leathern  countenance  turned 
towards  the  sky  with  profoundest  gravity.  It  was 
characteristic  of  him,  you  see,  to  note  the  signs 
of  the  weather. 

"Mr.  Brooke,"  he  said,  with  the  slow  deliberate 
air  of  the  man  who  forms  his  opinions  on  solid 
grounds,  "there's  goin'  to  be  a  bu'st  up  o'  the  ele- 
ments afore  long,  as  sure  as  my  name 's  Hunky." 

"  That 's  the  very  thing  I  want  to  talk  about  with 
ycu,  Ben,  for  I  meditate  a  long  journey  immediately. 
Come,  walk  with  me." 

Taking  the  scout's  arm  he  paced  with  him  slowly 
up  and  down  the  yard,  while  Dick  and  Mary  went 
off  on  a  cruise  elsewhere. 


W 


Li; 


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360 


CIIAULIF.  TO  TIIK  llESCUE  :   A.  TALE 


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I 

CHAPTEE    XXX. 

CHANGES  THE  SCENE  SOMEWHAT  VIOLENTLY,    AND  SHOWS 
OUR   HERO  IN  A  NEW  LIGHT. 

The  result  of  our  hero's  consultation  with  the 
scout  was  not  quite  as  satisfactory  as  it  might  have 
been.  Charlie  had  hoped  that  Hunky  Ben  would 
have  been  able  to  stay  with  Shank  till  he  should 
return  from  the  old  country,  but  found,  to  his  regret, 
that  that  worthy  was  engaged  to  conduct  still  further 
into  the  great  western  wilderness  a  party  of  emigrants 
who  wished  to  escape  the  evils  of  civilisation,  and  to 
set  up  a  community  of  their  own  which  should  be 
founded  on  righteousness,  justice,  and  temperance. 

"You  see,  sir,"  said  the  scout,  "I've  gi'n  them 
my  promise  to  guide  them  whenever  they  're  ready 
to  start,  so,  as  they  may  git  ready  and  call  for  my 
services  at  any  moment,  I  must  hold  myself  free 
o'  other  engagements.  To  say  truth,  even  if  they 
hadn't  my  promise  I'd  keep  myself  free  to  help  'em, 
for  I  've  a  likin'  for  the  good  man — half  doctor,  half 
parson  as  well  as  Jack-of-all-trades — as  has  set  the 
thing  agoin'— moreover,  I've  a  strong  belief  that 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


361 


all  this  fightin',  an'  scalpiii',  an'  flayiii'  alive,  an' 
roastin',  an'  revenge,  ain't  the  way  to  bring  about 
good  ends  either  among  Eed  men  or  white." 

"  I  agree  with  you  heartily,  Ben,  though  I  don't 
very  well  see  how  we  are  to  alter  it.  However,  we 
must  leave  the  discussion  of  that  difficulty  to  another 
time.  The  question  at  present  is,  what  hope  is  there 
of  your  staying  here  even  for  a  short  time  after 
I  leave  ?  for  in  Dick  Darvall's  present  condition  of 
mind  he  is  not  much  to  be  depended  on,  and  Jackson 
is  too  busy.  You  see,  I  want  Shank  to  go  out  on 
horseback  as  much  as  possible,  but  in  this  unsettled 
region  and  time  he  would  not  be  safe  except  in 
the  care  of  some  one  who  knew  the  country  and 
its  habits,  and  who  had  some  sort  of  sympathy  with 
a  broken-down  man." 

"  All  I  can  say,  Mr.  Brooke,  is  that  I  '11  stay  wi' 
your  friend  as  long  as  I  can,"  returned  the  scout, 
"  an'  when  I  'm  obleeged  to  make  tracks  for  the  west, 
I  '11  try  to  git  another  man  to  take  my  place.  Any- 
how, I  think  that  Mr.  Eeeves— that 's  the  name  o' 
the  good  man  as  wants  me  an'  is  boss  o'  the  emi- 
grants—won't be  Pble  to  git  them  all  ready  to 
start  for  some  weeks  yet." 

Charlie  was  obliged  to  content  himself  with  this 
arrangement.  Next  day  he  was  galloping  east- 
ward—convoyed part  of  the  way  by  the  scout  on 
Black  Polly  and  Dick  Darvall  on  Wheelbarrow. 
Soon  he  got  into  the  region  of  railways  and  steam- 


t  "r 


III 


362 


CIIAIILIE  TO  TIIK  llESCUE  :   A  TALE 


ill' 


II'! 


boats,  and,  in  a  few  weeks  more  was  once  again 
in  Old  Endand. 

A  post-card  announced  his  arrival,  for  Charlie  had 
learned  wisdom  from  experience,  and  feared  to  take 
any  one  "  by  surprise  " — especially  his  mother. 

We  need  not  describe  thi.'  second  meeting  of 
our  hero  with  his  kindred  and  friends.  In  many 
respects  it  resembled  the  former,  when  the  bad  news 
about  Shank  came,  and  there  was  the  same  conclave 
in  Mrs.  Leather's  parlour,  for  old  Jacob  Crossley 
happened  to  be  spending  a  holiday  in  Sealford  at 
the  time. 

Indeed  he  had  latterly  taken  to  spending  much  of 
his  leisure  time  at  that  celebrated  watering-place, 
owing,  it  was  supposed,  to  the  beneficial  effect  which 
the  sea-air  liad  on  his  rheumatism. 

But  May  Leatlier  knew  better.  With  that  dis- 
criminating penetration  which  would  seem  to  be  the 
natural  accompaniment  of  youth  and  beauty,  she 
discerned  that  the  old  gentleman's  motive  for  going 
so  frequently  1.0  Sealford  was  a  compound  motive. 

First,  Mr.  Crossley  was  getting  tired  of  old 
bachelorhood,  and  had  at  last  begun  to  enjoy 
ladies'  society,  especially  that  of  such  ladies  as  Mrs. 
Leather  and  Mrs.  Brooke,  to  say  nothing  of  May 
herself  and  Miss  Molloy — the  worsted  reservoir — 
who  had  come  to  reside  permanently  in  the  town  and 
who  had  got  the  "  Blackguard  Boy  "  into  blue  tights 
and  buttons,  to  the  amazement  and  confusion  of  the 


OP  TIII5  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


363 


little  dog  Scraggy,  whose  mind  was  weakened  in 
consequence — so  they  said.  Second,  Mr.  Crossley 
was  remarkably  fond  of  Captain  Stride,  whom  he 
abused  like  a  pick-pocket  and  stuck  to  like  a  brother, 
besides  playing  backgammon  with  him  nightly,  to 
the  great  satisfaction  of  the  Captain's  "  missus  "  and 
their  "little  Mag."  Third,  Mr.  Crossley  had  no 
occasion  to  attend  to  business,  because  business, 
somehow,  attended  to  itself,  and  poured  its  profits 
perennially  into  the  old  gentleman's  pocket — a 
pocket  which  was  never  full,  because  it  had  a 
charitable  hole  in  it  somewhere  which  let  the  cash 
run  out  as  fast  as  it  ran  in.  Fourth  and  last, 
but  not  least,  Mr.  Crossley  found  considerable  relief 
in  getting  away  occasionally  from  his  worthy  house- 
keeper Mrs.  Bland.  This  relief,  which  he  styled 
"letting  off  the  steam  "  at  one  time,  "brushing  away 
the  COD  webs  "  at  another,  was  invariably  followed  by 
a  fit  of  amiability,  which  resulted  in  a  penitent  spirit, 
and  ultimately  took  him  back  to  town  where  he 
remained  till  Mrs.  Bland  had  again  piled  enough  of 
eccentricity  on  the  safety  valve  to  render  another 
letting  off  of  steam  on  the  sea-shore  imperative. 

What  Charlie  learned  at  the  meeting  held  in 
reference  to  the  disappearance  of  old  Mr.  Isaac 
Leather  was  not  satisfactory.  The  wretched  man 
had  so  muddled  his  brain  by  constant  tippling  that 
it  had  become  a  question  at  last  whether  he  was 
quite    responsible    for    his    actions.     In    a   fit    of 


( i  ! 


!.'  i  .' 


^i. 


lijii 


11  : 


364 


CIIAULIE  TO  TIIK  UESCUE :    X  TALK 


' !  i       !l 


remorse,  after  an  attack  of  delirium  tremens,  he  had 
suddenly  condemned  himself  as  being  a  mean  con- 
temptible burden  on  his  poor  wife  and  daughter. 
Of  course  both  wife  and  daiigliter  asserted  that  his 
mere  maintenance  was  no  burden  on  them  at  all — 
as  in  truth  it  was  not  when  compared  with  the 
intolerable  weight  of  his  intemperance — and  they 
did  their  best  to  soothe  him.  But  the  idea  seemed 
to  have  taken  firm  hold  of  him,  and  preyed  upon 
liis  mind,  until  at  last  he  left  home  one  morning  in 
a  fit  of  despair,  and  had  not  since  been  heard  of. 

"  Have  you  no  idea,  then,  where  he  has  gone  ? " 
asked  Charlie. 

"No,  none,"  said  Mrs.  Leather,  with  a  tear 
trembling  in  her  eye. 

"  We  know,  mother,"  said  May,  "  that  he  has  gone 
to  London.  The  booking  clerk  at  the  station,  you 
know,  told  us  that." 

"Did  the  clerk  say  to  what  part  of  London  he 
booked?" 

"  No,  he  could  not  remember." 

"  Besides,  if  he  had  remembered,  that  would  be 
but  a  slight  clew,"  said  Mr.  Crossley.  "  As  well  look 
for  a  needle  in  a  bundle  of  hay  as  for  a  man  in 
London." 

"  As  well  go  to  sea  without  rudder  or  compass," 
observed  Captain  Stride. 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Charlie,  rising,  "  I  will  make 
the  attempt." 


,  he  had 
all  con- 
[lughter. 
that  hia 
at  all — 
dth  the 
ud  they 
seemed 
3d  upon 
rning  in 
■dof. 


gone 


a    tear 

has  gone 
.ion,  you 

ndon  he 

vould  be 
well  look 
,  man  in 

lompass," 

vill  make 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  TIIK  ROCKIES. 


3G5 


"Hopeless,"  said  Crossley.  "Sheer  madness," 
added  Stride.  Mrs.  Leather  sliook  her  head  ond 
wept  gently.  Mrs.  Brooke  sighed  and  cast  down 
her  eyes.  Miss  Molloy— who  was  of  the  council, 
being  by  that  time  cognisant  of  all  the  family 
secrets— clasped  her  hands  and  looked  miserable. 
Of  all  that  conclave  the  only  one  who  did  not  throw 
cold  water  on  our  hero  was  pretty  little  brown-eyed 
May.  She  cast  on  him  a  look  of  trusting  gratitude 
which  blew  a  long  smouldering  spark  into  such  a 
ilame  that  the  waters  of  Niagara  in  winter  would 
have  failed  to  quench  it. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  yet,  friends,  what  I  intend  to 
do,"  said  Charlie.  "All  I  can  say  is  that  I'm 
off  to  London.  I  shall  probably  be  away  some 
time,  but  will  write  to  mother  occasionally.  So 
good-bye." 

He  said  a  good  doal  more,  of  course,  but  that  was 
the  gist  of  it. 

May  accompanied  him  to  the  dof//, 

"Oh!  thank  yow—thanh  you!"  she  said,  with 
trembling  lip  and  tearful  eyes  as  she  held  out  her 
hand,  "  I  feel  sure  that  you  will  find  father." 

"  I  think  I  shall.  May.  Indeed  I  also  feel  sure 
that  I  shall— God  helping  me." 

At  the  ticket  office  he  found  that  the  clerk 
remembered  very  little.  He  knew  the  old  gentle- 
man well  by  sight;  indeed,  but  was  in  the  habit  of 
selling    tickets   to   so   many    people    that  it   was 


U:k 


366 


CIIAIJLTE  TO  THE  RESCUE:    A  TALE 


11  i 


I! 


impossible  for  him  to  remember  where  they  booked 
to.  In  fact  the  only  thing  that  had  fixed  Mr. 
Leather  at  all  in  his  memory  was  the  fact  that  the 
old  man  had  dropped  his  ticket,  had  no  money  to 
take  another,  and  had  pleaded  earnestly  to  let  him 
have  one  on  triiJit,  a  rei  est  with  which  he  dared 
not  comply — but  fortunately,  a  porter  found  and 
restored  the  ticket. 

"Is  the  porter  you  refer  to  still  here?"  asked 
Charlie. 

Yes,  he  was  there ;  and  Charlie  soon  found  him. 
The  porter  recollected  the  incident  perfectly,  for  the 
old  gentleman,  he  said,  had  made  a  considerable 
fuss  about  the  lost  ticket. 

"And  you  can't  remember  the  station  he  went 
to?" 

"  No,  sir,  but  I  do  remember  something  about  his 
saying  he  wanted  to  go  to  Whitechapel — I  think  it 
was — or  "Whitehall,  I  forget  which,  but  I  'm  sure  it 
was  white  something." 

With  this  very  slender  clew  Charlie  Brooke 
presented  himself  in  due  time  at  Scotland  Yard,  at 
which  fountain-head  of  London  policedom  he  gave  a 
graphic  account  of  the  missing  man  and  the  circum- 
stances attending  his  disappearance.  Thence  he 
went  to  the  headquarters  of  the  London  City 
Mission ;  introduced  himself  to  a  sympathetic 
secretary  there,  and  was  soon  put  in  communication 
with  one  of  the  most  intellifrcnt  of  those  valuable 


OF  Till!:  SKA  AND  IIIK  llOCKIES. 


3G7 


lOokcd 
1  Mr. 
at  the 
uey  to 
et  liim 
!  dared 
[id  and 

'   asked 

nd  liim. 
',  for  the 
jiderable 

lie  went 

about  his 
[  think  it 
m  sure  it 

e   Brooke 
Yard,  at 
he  gave  a 
le  circum- 
:hence  he 
idon  City 
^uipathetic 
nunication 
le  valuable 


self-sacrificing  and  devoted  men  who  may  be  styled 
the  salt  of  the  London  slrnis.  Tliis  good  man's 
district  embraced  part  of  Wiiitechapel. 

"  I  will  help  you  to  the  extent  of  my  power,  Mr. 
Brooke,"  he  said, "  but  your  quest  will  be  a  diOlcult 
one,  perhaps  dangerous.  How  do  you  ])iopose  to 
go  about  it  ? " 

"  By  visiting  all  tlie  low  lodging-houses  in  Wiiite- 
chapel first,"  said  Charlie. 

"That  will  take  a  long  time,"  said  the  City 
Missionary,  smiling.  "  Low  lodging-houses  are  some- 
what numerous  in  these  parts." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,  Mr.  Stansfield,  and  mean  to 
take  time,"  returned  our  hero  promptly.  "And 
what  I  want  of  you  is  to  take  me  into  one  or  two  of 
them,  so  that  I  may  see  something  of  them  while 
under  your  guidance.  After  that  I  will  get  their 
streets  and  numbers  from  you,  or  through  you,  and 
will  then  visit  them  by  myself." 

"But,  excuse  me,  my  friend,"  returned  the 
mis-^-ionary,  "your  appearance  in  such  places  will 
attract  more  attention  than  you  might  wish,  and 
would  interfere  with  your  investigations,  besides 
exposing  you  to  danger,  for  the  very  worst  charac- 
ters in  London  rre  sometimes  to  be  found  in  such 
places.  Only  men  of  the  police  force  and  we  city 
missionaries  can  go  among  them  with  impunity." 

"I  have  counted  the  cost,  Mr.  Stansfield,  and 
intend  to  run  the  risk  ;  but  thank  you,  all  the  same, 


ti ;  • 


I 


368 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:   A  TALE 


I  ' 


I 


Hi- 


for  your  well-meant  warning.  Can  you  go  round 
one  or  two  this  afternoon  ? "  . 

"  I  can,  with  pleasure,  and  will  provide  you  with 
as  many  lodging-house  addresses  as  I  can  procure. 
Do  you  live  far  from  this  ? " 

"  No,  quite  close.  A  gentlem.an  who  was  in  your 
Secretary's  office  when  I  called  recommended  a 
small  lodging-house  kept  by  a  Mrs.  Butt  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Flower  and  Dean  Street.  You 
know  that  region  well,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Ay — intimately ;  and  I  know  Mrs.  Butt  too — a 
very  respectable  woman.  Come,  then,  let  us  start 
on  our  mission." 

Accordingly  Mr.  Stansfield  introduced  his  inex- 
perienced friend  into  two  of  the  principal  lodging- 
houses  in  that  neighbourhood.  They  merely  passed 
through  them,  and  the  missionary,  besides  comment- 
ing on  all  that  they  saw,  told  his  new  friend  where 
and  what  to  pay  for  a  night's  lodging.  He  also 
explained  the  few  rules  that  were  connected  with 
those  sinks  into  which  the  dregs  of  the  metropolitan 
human  family  ultimately  settle.  Then  he  accom- 
panied Charlie  to  the  door  of  his  new  lodging  and 
bade  him  good-night. 

It  was  a  dingy  little  room  in  which  our  hero 
found  himself,  having  an  empty  and  rusty  fire-grate 
on  one  side  and  a  window  on  the  other,  from  which 
there  was  visible  a  landscape  of  paved  court.  The 
foreground  of  the  landscape  was  a  pump,  the  middle 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


369 


witli 
icure. 

lyour 

ded  a 

Lti  the 
You 

too — a 
as  start 

is  inex- 

lodging- 
y  passed 

oiiunent- 
d  wliere 
He  also 
ted  with 
I'opolitan 
e  accom- 
lains  aud 

our  hero 

fire-grate 

roiu  which 

lourt.    The 

1  the  middle 


distance  a  wash-tub,  and  the  background  a  brick 
wall,  about  ten  feet  distant  and  fifteen  feet  high. 
There  was  no  sky  to  the  landscape,  by  reason  of 
the  next  house.  The  furniture  was  in  keeping  with 
the  view. 

Observing  a  small  sofa  of  the  last  century  on  its 
last  legs  in  a  corner,  Charlie  sat  down  on  it  and 
rose  again  instantly,  owing  apparently  to  rheumatic 
complaints  from  its  legs. 

"La!  sir,"  said  the  landlady,  who  had  followed 
him  into  the  room,  "you  don't  need  to  fear  any- 
think.  That  sofar,  sir,  'as  bin  in  my  family  for 
three  generations.  The  frame  was  renoo'd  before  I 
was  born,  an'  the  legs  I  'ad  taken  off  an*  noo  ones 
putt  on  about  fifteen  year  ago  last  Easter  as 
over  was.  INIy  last  lodger  ee  went  through  the 
bottom  of  it,  w'ich  obliged  me  to  'ave  that  renoo'd, 
so  it's  stronger  than  ever  it  were.  If  you  only 
keep  it  well  shoved  up  agin  the  wall,  sir,  it'll  stand 
a'most  any  weight — only  it  won't  stand  jumpin'  on. 
You  mustn't  jump  on  it,  sir,  with  your  feet !" 

Charlie  promised  solemnly  that  he  would  not 
jump  on  it  either  with  his  feet  tr  head,  and  then 
asked  if  he  could  have  tea  and  a  fire.  On  being  in- 
formed that  he  could  have  both,  he  drew  out  his 
purse  and  said — 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Butt,  I  expect  to  stay  here  for  two  or 
three  weeks — perhaps  longer.  My  name  is  Brooke. 
I  was  advised  to  come  here  by  a  gentleman  in  the 


2  A 


ti.'       I 


370 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:  A  TALE 


m  :^^» 


offices  of  the  City  Mission.  I  shall  have  no  visitors 
— being  utterly  unknown  in  this  neighbourhood — 
except,  perhaps,  the  missionary  who  parted  from  me 
at  the  door " 

"Mr.  Stansfield,  sir?"  said  the  landlady. 

"  Yes.     You  know  him  ?  " 

"  I  've  knowed  'im  for  years,  sir.  I  shall  only  be 
too  pleased  to  'ave  any  friend  of  'is  in  my  'ouse,  I 
assure  you." 

"That's  well.  Now,  Mrs.  Butt,  my  motive  in 
coming  here  is  to  discover  a  runaway  relation " 

"  La !  sir— a  little  boy  ? " 

"  No,  Mrs.  Butt,  a " 

"  Surely  not  a  little  g2irl,  sir,"  said  the  landlady, 
with  a  sympathetic  expression. 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence  what  or  who  the  run- 
away relation  is,  Mrs.  Butt ;  I  merely  mention  the 
fact  in  order  that  you  may  understand  the  reason  of 
any  little  eccentricity  you  may  notice  in  my  con- 
duct, and  not  perplex  your  mind  about  it.  For 
instance,  I  shall  have  no  regular  hours — may  be  out 
late  or  early — it  may  be  even  all  night.  You  will 
give  me  a  pass-key,  an'l  I  will  let  myself  in. 
The  only  thing  I  will  probably  ask  for  will  be  a  cup 
of  tea  or  coffee.  Pray  let  me  have  one  about  an 
hour  hence.  I  'm  going  out  at  present.  Here  is  a 
week's  rent  in  advance." 

"  Shall  I  put  on  a  fire,  sir  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Butt. 

"Well,  yes — you  may." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


371 


"  Toast,  sir  ? " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Charlie,  opening  the  outer 
door. 

"'Ot  or  cold,  sir?" 

"'Ot,  and  hutterccir  cried  Charlie,  with  a  laugh,  as 
he  shut  the  door  after  him  and  rendered  further 
communication  impossible. 

Wending  his  way  through  the  poor  streets  in  the 

midst  of  which  his  lodging  was  situa:;ed,  our  hero 

at  last  found  an  old-clothes  store,  which  he  entered. 

"I  want  a  suit  of  old  clothes,"  he  said  to  the 

owner,  a  Jew,  who  came  forward. 

The  Jew  smiled,  spread  out  his  hands  after  the 
manner  of  a  Frenchman,  and  said,  "  My  shop,  sir,  is 
at  your  disposal." 

After  careful  inspection  Charlie  selected  a  fustian 
coat  of  extremely  ragged  appearance,  with  trousers 
to  match,  also  a  sealskin  vest  of  a  mangy  complexion, 
likewise  a  soiled  and  battered  billycock  hf,t,  so 
shockingly  bad  that  it  was  difficult  to  imagine  it  to 
have  ever  had  better  days  at  all. 

"  Are  thrj'  clean  ? "  he  asked. 

"Bin  baked  and  fumigated,  sir,"  answered  the 
Jew  solemnly. 

As  the  look  and  smell  of  the  garments  gave  some 
countenance  to  the  truth  of  this  statement,  Charlie 
paid  the  price  demanded,  had  them  wrapped  up  in 
a  green  cotton  handkerchief,  and  carried  them  off. 

Arrived  at  his  lodging  he  let  himseF  in,  entered 


1  ^11 


m 


C„mlKTOTURKK.C.E•.^T^« 


3T2  ««^'^'-"- ,    .       ^^^„,,     Then 

,  ttaew  the  bundle  in  a  curucT. 
Ilia  room,  and  Uirew 

he  rang  for  tea.  ^^^^^    ti„e.   but    a 

It   «as    gro^vlng    aark      j  ^    ^^^^  ^,^4  a 

"cheery  fire  in  the  grate  U=  ^^^^  yellow-white 

hrightly,  casting  a  rich  glow  ^^^,^^^_  ^„, 

table-cloth,  which  ^^^^^.^  ^^,m  contras 
creating  a  ^-^-^  f        ^3  .vhich  had  assayed 
to  the  sensation  of  dreari  ^^^^  ^^ 

him  on  his  first  entvan  ^  ^^  ^,^,  ,  ,,,,. 
pUced  a  P-f^S'^Cs  sugar-bo.l.acreani-3ug 
hrown  teapot,  a  thick  ,,„ttered  toast  that 

to  match,  and  a  Pf «  J^^^^y.our  hero  thought 

^      ,  IlsLn,  besides  ^^^J^^^^^iow,' "  he  mused,  as 
., .  One  wants  but  little  here        _^        ^^  ^^^^^  ^^ 

he  glanced  round  the  ^V^'^'''^  ^,  eyes  wandered 

to  the  ancient  sota, 
^-^«^"°^r■vTfo^nd•im,.i."  said  Mi-s.  Butt 

..  I  'ope  you  ve 
anxiously,  as  she  was  about  to 

..Found  who?  _        .      ^    ^^   boy-I  laean 

..Your   relation,    sir,    the 

g'i'^1-"  ,       1  npithet  the  boy  nor  the  girl," 

^     °  ..  No,  I  have  found  neither   ^^       ^^^^,^  ^^^_^  ^^^^^ 

veturned  the  lodger  sliavply- 
to  look  for  them  yet. 


i: 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


373 


er. 


Then 


,ect,  ai^^  ^ 
little  rooni 

spread,  and 
yful  contrast 
had  assailed 
^,s.  Butt  bad 

v/itli  a  da^'^^' 
^1  a  cxeam-j^g 
.,ed  toast  that 
,,,  hero  tliougi^t 
^l,at  ^^ealtli  was 

,"'heninsed,as 
|butbe^vantsit 
•,  eyes  v;andered 
^viously  eigl^teen 

I,  3,id  Mrs.  l^^^tt 


Lre. 


tie   l^oy- 


j[  mean 


„  toy  «or  Ae  girl  " 
Laveu't  even  l^egun 


"  Oh !  beg  pardiiig,  sir,  I  didn't  know  there  was 
tivo  of  'em." 

"  Neither  are  there.  There 's  only  one.  Fetch  me 
some  hot  water,  Mrs.  Butt,  your  tea  is  too  good.  I 
never  take  it  strong." 

The  landlady  retired,  and,  on  returning  with  the 
water,  found  her  lodger  so  deep  in  a  newspaper  that 
she  did  not  venture  to  interrupt  him. 

Tea  over,  Charlie  locked  his  door  and  clothed 
himself  in  his  late  purchase,  which  fitted  him  fairly 
well,  considering  that  he  had  measured  it  only  by 
eye.  Putting  on  the  billycock,  and  tying  the  green 
cotton  kerchief  loosely  round  his  neck  to  hide  his 
shirt,  he  stepped  in  front  of  the  looking-glass  above 
the  mantelpiece. 

At  sight  of  himself  he  was  prepared  to  be 
amused,  but  he  had  not  expected  to  be  shocked ! 
Yet  shocked  he  certainlv  was,  for  the  transforma- 
tion  was  so  complete  that  it  suddenly  revealed  to 
him  something  of  the  depth  of  degradation  to  which 
he  might  fall — to  which  many  a  man  as  good  as 
himself,  if  not  better,  liad  fallen.  Then  amusement 
rose  within  him,  for  he  was  the  very  beau-ideal  of 
a  typical  burglar,  or  a  prize-fighter:  big,  square- 
shouldered,  deep-chested,  large-chinned.  The  only 
parts  that  did  not  quite  correspond  to  the  type  were 
his  straight,  well-formed  nose  and  his  clear  blue  eyes, 
but  these  defects  were  put  right  by  slightly  drooping 
his  eyelids,  pusliing  his  billycock  a  little  back  on 


: 


l! 


it 


IF" 


:'!! 


m."^ 


374 


CHARLIE  TO  Til  HI  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


bis  head,  and  drawing  a  lock  of  hair  in  a  drunken 
fashion  over  his  forehead. 

Suddenly  an  idea  occurred  to  him.  Slipping  his 
latchkey  into  his  pocket  he  went  out  of  the  house 
and  closed  the  door  softly.     Then  he  rang  the  bell. 

"  Is  the  gen'leman  at  'ome  ? "  he  asked  of  Mrs. 
Butt,  in  a  gruff,  hoarse  voice,  as  if  still  engaged  in  a 
struggle  with  a  bad  cold. 

"  What  gentleman  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Butt,  eyeing  him 
suspiciously. 

"  Wy,  the  gen'leman  as  sent  for  me  to  give  'im 
boxin'  lessons — Buck  or  Book,  or  some  sitch  name." 

"Brooke,  you  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Butt,  still  sus- 
picious, and  interposing  her  solid  person  in  the 
doorway. 

"Ay,  that's  the  cove — the  gen'leman  I  mean 
came  here  this  arternoon  to  lodge  wi'  a  Missis  Butt 
or  Brute,  or  suthin'  o'  that  sort — air  you  Mrs. 
Brute?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  the  landlady,  with 
indignation  ;  "  but  I  'm  Mrs.  Butt." 

"  Well,  it 's  all  the  same.  I  ax  yer  parding  for 
the  mistake,  but  there 's  sitch  a  mixin'  up  o'  Brutes 
an'  Brookes,  an'  Butts  an'  Bucks,  that  it  comes  hard 
o'  a  man  o'  no  edication  to  speak  of  to  take  it  all  in. 
Tliis  gen'leman,  Mr.  Brute,  'e  said  if  'e  was  hout 
w'en  I  called  I  was  to  wait,  an'  say  you  was  to 
make  tea  for  two,  an'  'ave  it  laid  in  the  bedroom  as 
'e'd  require  the  parlour  tor  the  mill." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


375 


runken 


ling  his 
e  house 
le  bell, 
of  Mrs. 
ged  in  a 

iing  him 


give  'im 
h  name." 
still  siis- 
1  in   the 

I  mean 

5sis  Butt 
^ou  Mrs. 

dy,   with 

Irding  for 
)'  Brutes 
Imes  hard 
it  all  in. 
trvas  hout 
i\  was  to 
idroom  as 


The  man's  evident  knowledge  of  her  lodger's 
affairs,  and  his  gross  stupidity,  disarmed  Mrs.  Butt. 
She  would  have  laughed  at  his  last  speech  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  astounding  conclusion.  Tea  in  the 
bedroom  and  a  mill  in  the  parlour  the  first  night 
was  a  degree  of  eccentricity  she  had  not  even  con- 
ceived of, 

"Come  in,  then,  young  man,"  she  said,  making 
way.  "You'll  find  Mr.  Brooke  in  the  parlour  at 
liis  tea." 

The  prize-fighter  stepped  quickly  along  the  dark 
passage  into  the  parlour,  and  while  the  somewhat 
sluggish  Mrs.  Butt  was  closing  the  door  she  over- 
heard her  lodger  exclaim — 

"  Ha !  Jem  Mace,  this  is  good  of  you — very  good 
of  you — to  come  so  promptly.  Mrs.  Butt,"  shouting 
at  the  parlour  door,  "  another  cup  and  plate  for  Mr. 
Mace,  and — and  bring  the  ham  /  " 

"  The  'am !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Butt  softly  to  herself, 
as  she  gazed  in  perplexity  round  her  little  kitchen, 
"  did  'e  order  a  'am  ? " 

Unable  to  solve  the  riddle  she  gave  it  up  and 
carried  in  the  cup  and  saucer  and  plate. 

"  I  beg  your  parding,  sir,  you  mentioned  a  'am," 
she  began,  but  stopped  abruptly  on  seeing  no  one 
there  but  the  prize-fighter  standing  before  the  fire 
in  a  free-and-easy  manner  with  his  hands  in  his 
breeches  pockets. 

The  light  of  the  street-lamps  had  very  imperfectly 


it  K, 


I 


»'■    l\ 


Mr 


If 


376 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE:   A  TALE 


revealed  the  person  of  Jem  Mace.  Now  that  Mrs. 
Butt  saw  him  slouching  in  all  his  native  hideousness 
against  her  mantelpiece  in  the  full  blaze  of  a  par- 
affin lamp,  she  inwardly  congratulated  herself  that 
Mr.  Brooke  was  such  a  big  strong  man — almost  a 
match,  she  thought,  for  Mace ! 

"  I  thought  you  said  the  gen'leman  was  in  the 
parlour,  Mrs.  Brute  ? "  said  Mace  inquiringly. 

"So  'e — loas,"  answered  the  perplexed  lady, 
looking  round  the  room  ;  "didn't  I  'ear  'im  a-shakin' 
'ands  wi'  you,  an'  a-shoutin'  for  'am  ? " 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Brute,  I  dun  know  what  you  'card  ; 
all  I  know  is  that  I  've  not  seed  'im  yet." 

"  'E  must  be  in  the  bedroom,"  said  Mrs.  Butt, 
with  a  dazed  look. 

"  No  'e  ain't  there,"  returned  the  prize-lighter ; 
"  I  *ve  bin  all  over  it — looked  under  the  bed,  into 
the  cupboard,  through  the  key'ole ; — p'r'aps,"  he 
added,  turning  quickly,  "  'e  may  be  up  the  chimbly !" 

The  expression  on  poor  Mrs.  Butt's  face  now 
alarmed  Charlie,  who  instantly  doffed  his  billycock 
and  resumed  his  natural  voice  and  manner. 

"Forgive  me,  Mrs.  Butt,  if  I  have  been  somewhat 
reckless,"  he  said,  "  in  testing  my  disguise  on  you. 
I  really  had  no  intention  till  a  few  minutes  ago  of 
playing  such  a  practical " 

"  "Well,  well,  Mr.  Brooke,"  broke  in  the  amazed 
yet  amiable  creature  at  this  point,  "  I  do  assure 
you  as  I  'd  never  'ave  know'd  you  from  the  worst 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  llOCKIES. 


377 


.t  Mrs. 
Dusuess 
a  par- 
3lf  that 
Imost  a 


lU 


the 


id   lady, 
i-shakiu' 

ou  'card ; 

[rs.  Butt, 

^e-iighter ; 

bed,  into 

f'aps,"    he 

chimblyl" 

face  now 

billycock 


somewhat 
ise  on  you. 


lites  ago  of 


the  amazed 
[  do  assure 
1  the  worst 


character  in  W'itechapel.  I  wouldn't  have  trusted 
you — not  with  a  sixpence.  You  was  born  to  be  a 
play-actor,   sir!     I   declare   that   Jem   Mace   have 

given  me  a  turn  that But  why  disguise  yourself 

in  this  way,  Mr.  Brooke  ?  " 

"Because  I  am  going  to  haunt  the  low  lodging- 
houses,  Mrs.  Butt,  and  I  could  not  well  do  that,  you 
know,  in  the  character  of  a  gentleman  ;  and  as  you 
have  taken  it  so  amiably  I'm  glad  I  tried  my 
hand  here  first,  for  it  will  make  me  feel  much  more 
at  ease." 

"  And  well  it  may,  sir.  I  only  'ope  it  won't  get 
you  into  trouble,  for  if  the  p'lcece  go  lookin'  for  a 
Ijurglar,  or  murderer,  or  desprit  rufhan,  where  you 
'appen  to  be,  they  're  sure  to  run  you  in.  The  only 
think  I  would  point  out,  sir,  if  I  may  be  so  free,  is 
that  your  'ands  an'  face  is  too  clean." 

"  That  is  easily  remedied,"  said  Charlie,  with  a 
laugh,  as  he  stooped  and  rubbed  his  hands  a?  long 
the  ashes ;  tlien,  taking  a  piece  of  cinder,  he  made 
sundry  marks  on  his  countenance  therewith,  which, 
when  judiciously  touched  in  with  a  little  water  and 
some  ashes,  converted  our  hero  into  as  thorough  a 
scoundrel  as  ever  walked  the  streets  of  London  at 
unseasonable  hours  of  night. 


it!     I 

s 


i  i 


p, 


378 


CFIAULIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


If.-' 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 


-f-- 


pfei 

UUit'. 


si       ili 


■;!i 


failuhe  and  a  new  scent. 

Although  our  hero's  plan  of  search  may  seem 
to  some  rather  Quixotic,  there  was  nothing  further 
from  his  thoughts  than  merely  playing  at  the  game 
of  amateur  detective.  Being  enthusiastic  and 
sanguine,  besides  being  spurred  on  by  an  intense 
desire  to  rescue  the  father  of  May  Leather,  Charlie 
Brooke  was  thoroughly  in  earnest  in  his  plan.  He 
knew  that  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  such  a 
search  and  rescue  in  any  other  capacity  than  that 
of  a  genuine  pauper,  at  least  in  appearance  and 
action.  He  therefore  resolved  to  conduct  the  search 
in  character,  and  to  plunge  at  once  into  the  deepest 
pools  of  the  slums. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  carry  the  reader  through 
the  Arabian-night-like  adventures  which  he  ex- 
perienced in  his  quest.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  he 
did  not  find  the  lost  man  in  the  pools  in  which  he 
fished  for  him,  but  he  ultimately,  after  many  weeks, 
found  one  who  led  him  to  the  goal  he  aimed  at. 

Meanwhile  there  were  revealed  to  him  numerous 


OF  TlIK  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIKS. 


379 


phases  of  life — or,  rather,  of  living  death — in  the 
slums  of  the  great  city  which  caused  him  many  a 
heartache  at  the  time,  and  led  him  ever  afterwards 
to  consider  with  anxious  pity  the  condition  of  the 
poor,  the  so-called  lost  and  lapsed,  the  depraved, 
degraded,  and  unfortunate.  Of  course  he  found — 
as  so  many  had  found  before  him — that  the  demon 
Drink  was  at  the  bottom  of  most  of  the  misery  he 
witnessed,  but  he  also  learned  that  whereas  many 
weak  and  vicious  natures  datea  the  commencement 
of  their  final  descent  and  fall  from  the  time  when 
they  began  to  drink,  many  of  the  strong  and  fero- 
cious spirits  had  begun  a  life  of  wickedness  in  early 
youth,  and  only  added  drink  in  after  years  as  a 
little  additional  fuel  to  the  already  roaring  flame 
of  sin. 

It  is  well  known  that  men  of  all  stamps  and 
creeds  and  classes  are  to  be  found  in  the  low  lodging- 
houses  of  all  great  cities.  At  first  Charlie  did  not 
take  note  of  this,  being  too  earnestly  engaged  in  the 
search  for  his  friend,  and  anxious  to  avoid  drawing 
attention  on  himself ;  but  as  he  grew  familiar  with 
these  scenes  of  misery  and  destitution  he  gradually 
began  to  be  interested  in  the  affairs  of  other  people, 
and,  as  he  was  eminently  sympathetic,  he  became  the 
confidant  of  several  paupers,  young  and  old.  A  few 
tried  to  draw  him  out,  but  he  quietly  checked  their 
curiosity  without  giving  offence. 

It  may  be  remarked  here  that  he  at  once  dropped 


If 


rrrsa 


I;  1 


380 


CHAULIK  TO  TllK  ItKSCUE :   A  TALK 


U 


i " 


h 


11 


« 


the  style  of  talk  which  he  had  adopted  when  repre- 
senting Jem  Mace,  because  he  found  so  many  in 
the  lodging-houses  who  had  fallen  from  a  good 
position  in  society  that  grammatical  language  was 
by  no  means  singular.  His  size  and  strength  also 
saved  him  from  much  annoyance,  for  the  roughs, 
who  might  otherwise  have  bullied  him,  felt  that  it 
would  be  wise  to  leave  him  alone. 

On  one  occasion,  however,  his  pacific  principles 
were  severely  tested  as  well  as  his  manhood,  and 
as  this  led  to  important  results  we  must  recount  the 
incident. 

There  was  a  little  lame,  elderly  man,  who  was  a 
habitual  visitor  at  one  of  the  houses  which  our  hero 
frequented.  He  was  a  humorous  character,  who 
made  light  of  his  troubles,  and  was  a  general 
favourite.  Charlie  had  felt  interested  in  the  man, 
and  in  ordinary  circumstances  would  have  inquired 
into  his  history,  but,  as  we  have  said,  he  laid  some 
restraint  on  his  natural  tendency  to  inquire  and 
sympathise.  As  it  was,  however,  he  showed  his 
goodwill  by  many  little  acts  of  kindness — such  as 
making  way  for  Zuok — so  he  was  called — when  he 
wanted  to  get  to  the  general  fire  to  boil  his  tea  or 
coffee ;  giving  him  a  portion  of  his  own  food  on  the 
half  pretence  that  he  had  eaten  as  much  as  he 
wanted,  etc. 

There  was  another  hdbitvA  of  the  same  lodging, 
named   Stoker,  whose   temperament  was  the  very 


i 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  UOCKIES. 


381 


I  repve- 
lany  in 
a  good 
age  was 
rth  also 
roughs, 
t  that  it 

rinciples 
ood,  and 
ount  the 

lio  was  a 
our  hero 

pter,  who 
general 
he  man, 
inquired 
aid  some 
uire  and 
owed  his 
—such  as 
when  he 
lis  tea  or 
od  on  the 
ch   as  he 

e  lodging, 
the  very 


opposite  to  that  of  little  Zook.  Ho  was  a  huge, 
burly  dock  labourer;  an  ex-prize-fighter  and  a 
disturber  of  the  peace  wlierever  he  went.  Between 
Stoker  and  Zook  there  was  nothing  in  common  save 
their  poverty,  and  the  former  had  taken  a  strong 
dishke  to  tlie  latter,  presumal)ly  on  the  ground  of 
Zook's  superiority  in  everything  except  bulk  of 
frame.  Charlie  had  come  into  slight  collision  with 
Stoker  on  Zook's  account  more  than  once,  and  had 
tried  to  make  peace  between  them,  but  Stoker  was 
essentially  a  bully ;  he  would  listen  to  no  advice, 
and  had  more  than  once  told  the  would-be  peace- 
Huiker  to  mind  his  own  business. 

One  evening,  towards  the  close  of  our  hero's 
search  among  the  lodging-houses,  little  Zook  enteied 
the  kitclien  of  the  establishment,  tea-pot  and  pen\y 
loaf  in  hand.  Ho  hastened  towards  the  roaring 
lire  that  might  have  roasted  a  whole  sheep,  and 
which  served  to  warm  the  entire  basement  story, 
or  kitchen,  of  the  tenement. 

"Here,  Zook,"  said  Charlie,  as  the  former  passed 
the  table  at  which  he  was  seated  taking  his  supper, 
"  I  've  bought  more  than  I  can  eat,  as  usual !  1  've 
got  two  red-herrings  and  can  eat  only  one.  Will 
you  help  me  ? " 

"It's  all  fish  that  comes  to  my  net,  Charlie,"  said 
the  little  man,  skipping  towards  his  friend,  and 
accepting  the  herring  with  a  grateful  but  exaggerated 
bow. 


til 


I' 


f — 


III   / 


! 


H~- 


382 


CIIAULIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TAT-E 


We  omitted  to  say  that  our  hero  passed  among 
the  paupers  by  his  Christian  name,  which  he  had 
given  as  being,  from  its  very  universality,  the  best 
possible  alias. 

A  few  minutes  later  Stoker  entered  and  went  to 
the  fire,  where  loud,  angry  voices  soon  told  that 
the  bully  wab  at  his  old  game  of  peace-disturber. 
Presently  a  cry  of "  shame  "  was  heard,  and  poor  Zook 
was  seen  lying  on  the  floor  with  his  nose  bleeding. 

"  Who  cried  shame  ?"  demanded  the  bully,  looking 
fiercely  round. 

"  /  did  not,"  said  Charlie  Brooke,  striding  towards 
him,  "  for  I  did  not  know  it  was  you  who  knocked 
him  down,  but  I  do  cry  shame  on  you  now,  for 
striking  a  man  so  much  smaller  than  yourself,  and 
without  provocation,  I  warrant." 

"  An'  pray  who  are  you  ? "  returned  Stoker,  in  a 
tone  that  was  meant  to  be  witheringly  sarcastic. 

"I  am  one  who  likes  fair  play,"  said  Charlio, 
restraining  his  anger,  for  he  was  still  anxious  to 
throw  oil  on  the  troubled  waters,  "  and  if  you  call 
it  fair  play  for  a  heavy-weight  like  you  to  attack 
such  a  light-weight  as  Zook,  you  must  have  for- 
gotten somehow  that  you  are  an  Englishman. 
Come,  now.  Stoker,  say  to  Zook  you  are  sorry  and 
won't  worry  him  any  more,  and  I'm  sure  he'll 
forgive  you ! " 

"  Hear !  hear ! "  cried  several  of  the  on-lookers. 

"  Perhaps  I  may  forgive  'im,"  said  Zook,  with  a 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  150CKIES. 


383 


,  among 

he  bad 

the  best 

[  went  to 
tohl  that 
disturber, 
poor  Zook 
)leeding. 
[y,  looking 

ig  towards 

0  knocked 

1  now,  for 
3urself,  and 

toker,  in  a 
ircastic. 
lid  Charlie, 
anxious  to 
if  you  call 
)Vi  to  attack 
t  have  fcr- 
Enghshman. 
re  sorry  and 
1  sure  he'll 

I)n-lookers. 
Zook,  with  a 


humorous  leer,  as  he  wiped  his  bleeding  nose — "I'd 
do  a'most  anything  to  please  Charlie  ! " 

This  was  received  with  a  general  laugh,  but 
Stoker  did  not  laugh ;  he  turned  on  our  hero  with 
a  look  of  mingled  pity  and  contempt. 

"  No,  Mister  Charlie,"  he  said,  "  I  won't  say  I  'm 
sorry,  because  I  'd  tell  a  big  lie  if  I  did,  and  I  '11 
worry  him  just  as  much  as  I  please.  But  I'll  tell 
'e  what  I  '11  do.  If  you  show  yourself  as  ready  wi' 
your  bunches  o'  fives  as  you  are  wi'  yer  tongue,  and 
agree  to  fight  me,  I  '11  say  to  Zook  that  I  'm  sorry 
and  won't  worry  'im  any  more." 

There  was  dead  silence  for  a  minute  after  the 
delivery  of  this  challenge,  and  much  curiosity  was 
exhibited  as  to  how  it  would  be  taken.  Charlie  cast 
down  his  eyes  in  perplexity.  Like  many  big  and 
strong  men  he  was  averse  to  use  his  superior  physi- 
cal powers  in  fighting.  Besides  this,  he  had  been 
trained  by  his  mother  to  regard  it  as  more  noble  to 
suffer  than  to  avenge  insults,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
tha*^  if  the  bully's  insult  had  affected  only  himseli" 
he  would  have  avoided  him,  if  possible,  rather  than 
come  into  conflict.  Having  been  trained,  also,  to 
let  Scripture  furnish  him  with  rules  for  action,  his 
mind  irresistibly  recalled  the  turning  of  the  "  other 
cheek "  to  the  smiter,  but  the  fact  that  he  was  at 
that  moment  acting  in  defence  of  another,  not  of  him- 
self, prevented  that  from  relieving  him.  Suddenly 
— like  the  lightning  flash — there  arose  to  him  the 


'M 


1 

ll 

! 

i 

! 
1 
(     1 

; 

1  1 

}• 

ill 

1 

1 

\i 

1 

ll 

1 1  ' 


i,: 
'hi 


i 

I 

i 

III 

Mil 


h  ! 


384 


CHAKLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


words,  "Smite  a  scorner  and  the  simple  will  beware" ! 
Indeed,  all  that  we  have  mentioned,  and  much  more, 
passed  through  his  troubled  brain  with  the  speed  of 
light.  Lifting  his  eyes  calmly  to  the  face  of  his 
opponent  he  said — 

"  I  accept  your  challenge." 

"  No,  no,  Charlie ! "  cried  the  alarmed  Zook,  in  a 
remonstrative  tone,  "  you  '11  do  nothing  of  the  sort. 
The  man 's  a  old  prize-fighter !  You  haven't  a 
chance.  Why,  I'll  fight  him  myself  rather  than 
let  you  do  it." 

And  with  that  the  little  man  began  to  square  up 
and  twirl  his  fists  and  skip  about  in  front  of  the 
bully  in  spite  of  his  lameness — but  took  good  care 
to  keep  v^ell  out  of  his  reach. 

"  It 's  a  bargain,  then,"  said  Charlie,  holding  out 
his  hand. 

"  Done  ! "  answered  the  bully,  grasping  it. 

"  Well,  then,  the  sooner  we  settle  this  business 
the  better,"  continued  Charlie.  "  Where  shall  it 
come  off  ? " 

"  Prize-fightin  's  agin  the  law,"  suggested  an  old 
pauper,  who  seemed  to  fear  they  were  about  to  set 
to  in  the  kitchen. 

"So  it  is,  old  man,"  said  Charlie,  "and  I  would 
be  the  last  to  engage  in  such  a  thing,  but  this  i.s  not 
a  prize-fight,  for  there's  no  prize.  It's  simply  a 
fight  in  defence  of  weakness  against  brute  strengtli 
and  tyranny." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


385 


eware" ! 
sh  more, 
speed  of 
e  of  his 


)ok,  in  a 
the  sort. 
laven't  a 
Aier  than 

;quare  up 
nt  of  the 
good  care 

)ldin"  out 


business 
shall  it 

ed  an  old 
out  to  set 

I  I  would 

this  U  not 
simply  a 
streiigth 


There  were  only  a  few  of  the  usual  inhabitants  of 
the  kitchen  present  at  the  time,  for  it  was  yet  early 
in  the  evening.  This  was  lucky,  as  it  permitted  of 
the  fight  being  gone  about  quietly. 

In  the  upper  part  of  the  building  there  was  an 
empty  room  of  considerable  size  which  had  been 
used  as  a  furniture  store,  and  happened  at  that  time 
to  have  been  cleared  out  with  the  view  of  adding  it 
to  the  lodging.  There,  it  was  arranged,  the  event 
should  come  off,  and  to  this  apartment  proceeded  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  kitchen  who  were  interested 
in  the  matter.  A  good  many,  however,  remained 
behind — some  because  they  did  not  like  fights, 
some  because  they  did  not  believe  that  the  parties 
were  in  earnest,  others  because  they  were  too  much 
taken  up  with  and  oppressed  by  their  own  sorrows, 
and  a  few  because,  being  what  is  called  fuddled, 
they  did  not  understand  or  care  anything  about  the 
matter  at  all.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  all  the 
proceedings  were  quiet  and  orderly,  and  there  was 
no  fear  of  interruption  by  the  police. 

Arrived  at  the  scene  of  action,  a  ring  was  formed 
by  the  spectators  standing  round  the  walls,  which 
they  did  in  a  single  row,  for  there  was  plenty  of 
room.  Then  Stoker  strode  into  the  middle  of  the 
room,  pulled  off  his  coat,  vest,  and  shirt,  which  he 
flung  into  a  corner,  and  stood  up,  stripped  to  the 
waist,  like  a  genuine  performer  in  the  ring.  Charlie 
also  threw  off  coat  and  vest,  but  retained  his  shirt — 

2b 


ill 


>  1} ' 


386 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


lit ! 


an  old  striped  cotton  one  in  harmony  with  his  other 
garments. 

"  I  'm  not  a  professional,"  he  said,  as  he  stepped 
forward;  "you've  no  objection,  I  suppose,  to  my 
keeping  on  my  shirt  ? " 

"  None  whatever,"  replied  Stoker,  with  a  patron- 
ising air ;  "  p'r'aps  it  may  be  as  well  for  fear  you 
should  kitch  co?  \" 

Charlie  smiled,  and  held  out  his  hand — "You 
see,"  he  said,  "  that  at  least  I  understand  the  civi- 
lities of  the  ring." 

There  was  an  approving  laugh  at  this  as  the 
champions  shook  hands  and  stood  on  guard. 

"I  am  quite  willing  even  yet," said  Charlie,  while  in 
this  attitude,  "  to  settle  this  matter  without  fighting 
if  you  11  only  agree  to  leave  Zook  alone  in  future." 

This  was  a  clear  showing  of  the  white  feather  in 
the  opinion  of  Stoker,  who  replied  with  a  thundering 
"  No ! "  and  at  the  same  moment  made  a  savage 
blow  at  Charlie's  face. 

Our  hero  was  prepared  for  it.  He  put  his  head 
quickly  to  one  side,  let  the  blow  pass,  and  with  his 
left  hand  lightly  tapped  the  bridge  of  his  opponent's 
nose. 

" Hah !  a  hamiiytoor ! "  exclaimed  the  ex-pugilist 
in  some  surprise. 

Charlie  said  nothing,  but  replied  with  the  grim 
smile  with  which  in  school-days  he  had  been  wont 
to  indicate   that  he   meant   mischief.     The   smile 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


387 


1  other 

itepped 
to  my 

patron- 
:ear  you 

l_-«  You 
the  civi- 

Ls  as  the 

■d. 

e,  while  in 
^it  fighting 
future.'* 
feather  in 
hundering 
a  savage 

[t  his  head 
[id  with  his 
opponent's 


ex-pugilist 


th  the  grim 
"been  wont 
The  smile 


passed  quickly,  however,  for  even  at  that  moment 
he  would  gladly  have  hailed  a  truce,  so  deeply  did  he 
feel  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  degradation  of  his 
position — a  feeling  which  neither  his  disreputable 
appearance  nor  his  miserahle  associates  had  yet  been 
able  to  produce. 

But  nothing  was  further  from  the  intention  of 
Stoker  tlian  a  truce.  Savages  usually  attribute  for- 
bearance to  cowardice.  War  to  the  knife  was  in 
his  heart,  and  he  rushed  at  Charlie  with  a  shower 
of  slogging  blows,  which  were  meant  to  end  the 
fight  at  once.  But  they  failed  to  do  so.  Our  hero 
nimbly  evaded  the  blows,  acting  entirely  on  the 
defensive,  and  when  Stoker  at  length  paused,  pant- 
ing, the  hammytoor  was  standing  before  him  quite 
cool,  and  with  the  grim  look  intensified. 

"  If  you  will  have  it — take  it !  "  he  exclaimed,  and 
shot  forth  a  blow  which  one  of  the  juvenile  by- 
standers described  as  a  "  stinger  on  the  beak ! " 

The  owner  of  the  beak  felt  it  so  keenly,  that  he 
lost  temper  and  made  another  savage  assault,  which 
was  met  in  much  the  same  way,  with  this  difference, 
that  his  opponent  delivered  several  more  stingers 
on  the  unfortunate  beak,  which  after  that  would 
have  been  more  correctly  described  as  a  bulb. 

Again  the  ex-pugilist  paused  for  breath,  and  again 
the  "  hammytoor "  stood  up  before  him  smiling 
more  grimly  than  ever — panting  a  little,  it  is  true, 
but   quite   unscathed   about   the  face,  for  he  had 


W^ 


11 


w 


It! 


1 .'  ■ 


i  i'l 


m--^  ^ 


i  h 


388 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


guarded  it  with  great  care  althougli  he  had  received 
some  rather  severe  body  blows. 

Seeing  this,  Stoker  descended  to  mean  practices, 
and  in  his  next  assault  attempted,  and  with  par- 
tial success,  to  hit  below  the  belt.  This  roused  a 
spirit  of  indignation  in  Charlie,  which  gave  strength 
to  his  arm  and  vigour  to  his  action.  The  next  time 
Stoker  paused  for  breath,  Charlie — as  the  juvenile 
bystander  remarked — "  went  for  him,"  planted  a  blow 
under  each  eye,  a  third  on  his  forehead,  and  a 
fourth  on  his  chest,  with  such  astounding  rapidity 
and  force  that  the  man  was  driven  up  against  the 
wall  with  a  crash  that  shook  the  whole  edifice. 

Stoker  dropped  and  remained  still.  There  were 
no  seconds,  no  sponges  or  calling  of  time  at  that 
encounter.  It  was  altogether  an  informal  episode, 
and  when  Charlie  saw  his  antagonist  drop,  he 
kneeled  down  beside  him  with  a  feeling  of  anxiety 
lest  he  had  killed  him. 

"My  poor  man,"  he  said,  "are  you  much 
hurt?" 

"  Oh !  you  've  no  need  to  fear  for  me,"  said  Stoker 
recovering  himself  a  little,  and  sitting  up — "  but  I 
throw  up  the  sponge.  Stoker's  day  is  over  w'en 
'e  's  knocked  out  o'  time  by  a  hammytoor,  and  Zook 
is  free  to  bile  'is  pot  unmorlested  in  futur'." 

"  Come,  it  was  worth  a  fight  to  bring  you  to  that 
state  of  mind,  my  man,"  said  Charlie,  laughing. 
"  Here,  two  of  you,  help  to  take  him  down  and  wash 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


389 


id  received 

n  practices, 
with  par- 
is  roused  a 
,ve  strength 
e  next  time 
the  juvenile 
mted  a  blow 
lead,  and  a 
ing  rapidity 
»  against  the 
edifice. 
There  were 
;ime  at  that 
:mal  episode, 
3t    drop,    he 
ig  of  anxiety 


you 


much 


,"  said  Stoker 
y  up — "  but  I 
is  over  w'en 
3or,  and  Zook 
tur. 

ig  you  to  that 
rlie,  laughing, 
own  and  wash 


the  blood  off  him ;  and  I  say,  youngster,"  he  added, 
pulling  out  his  purse  and  handing  a  sovereign  to 
the  juvenile  bystander  already  mentioned,  "  go  out 
and  buy  sausages  for  the  whole  company." 

The  boy  stared  at  the  coin  in  his  hand  in  mute 
surprise,  while  the  rest  of  the  ring  looked  at  each 
other  with  various  expressions,  for  Charlie,  in  the 
rebound  of  feeling  caused  by  his  opponent's  sudden 
recovery  and  submission,  had  totally  forgotten  his 
rdle  and  was  ordering  the  people  about  like  one 
accustomed  to  command. 

As  part  of  the  orders  were  of  such  a  satisfactory 
nature,  the  people  did  not  object,  and,  to  the  ever- 
lasting honour  of  the  juvenile  bystander  who  resisted 
the  temptation  to  bolt  with  the  gold,  a  splendid 
supper  of  pork  sausages  was  smoking  on  the  various 
tables  of  the  kitchen  of  that  establishment  in  less 
than  an  hour  thereafter. 

When  the  late  hours  of  night  hid  arrived,  and 
most  of  the  paupers  were  asleep  in  their  poor  beds, 
dreaming,  perchance,  of  "  better  days  "  when  pork 
sausages  were  not  so  tremendous  a  treat,  little 
Zook  went  to  the  table  at  which  Charlie  sat.  He 
was  staring  at  a  newspaper,  but  in  reahty  was  think- 
ing about  his  vain  search,  and  beginning,  if  truth 
must  be  told,  to  feel  discouraged. 

"Charlie,"  said  Zook,  sitting  down  beside  his 
champion,  « or  p'r'aps  I  should  say  3Iister  Charlie, 
the  game  's  up  wi'  you,  whatever  it  was." 


imi 


111., 


390 


CHAKLIB  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


!.IMl     ij/i 


1:.ii 


"  What  d'  you  mean,  Zook  ? " 

"  Well,  I  just  mean  that  it 's  o'  no  manner  o*  use 
your  tryin'  to  sail  any  longer  under  false  colours  in 
this  here  establishment," 

"  I  must  still  ask  you  to  explain  yourself,"  said 
Charlie,  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"  Well,  you  know,"  continued  the  little  man,  with 
a  deprecatory  glance,  "  w  'en  a  man  in  ragged  clo'se 
orders  people  here  about  as  if  'e  was  the  commander- 
in-chief  o'  the  British  Army,  an'  flings  yellow  boys 
about  as  if  *e  was  chancellor  o'  the  checkers,  an' 
orders  sassengers  offhand  for  all  'ands,  'e  may  be  a 
gentleman — wery  likely  'e  is, — but  'e  ain't  a  redooced 
one,  such  as  slopes  into  lodgin'-'ouse  kitchens. 
W'atever  little  game  may  'ave  brought  you  'ere, 
sir,  it  ain't  poverty — an'  nobody  will  be  fool  enough 
in  tJds  'ouse  to  believe  it  is." 

"You  are  right,  Zook.  I'm  sorry  I  forgot  my- 
self," returned  Charlie,  with  a  sigh.  "  After  all,  it 
does  not  matter  much,  for  I  fear  my  little  game — 
as  you  call  it — was  nearly  played  out,  and  it  does 
not  seem  as  if  I  were  going  to  win." 

Charlie  clasped  his  hands  on  the  table  before  him, 
and  looked  at  the  newspaper  somewhat  disconsolately. 

"  It 's  bin  all  along  o'  takin'  up  my  cause,"  said 
the  little  man,  with  something  like  a  whimper  in 
his  voice.  "  You  've  bin  wery  kind  to  me,  sir,  an' 
I  'd  give  a  lot,  if  I  'ad  it,  an'  would  go  a  long  way 
if  I  warn't  lame,  to  'elp  you." 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


391 


nner  o  use 
;  colours  in 

rself,"  said 

man,  with 
Lgged  clo'se 
ommander- 
'■ellow  boys 
eckers,  an* 

may  be  a 
:  a  redooced 
J  kitchens, 
t  you  'ere, 
'ool  enough 

forgot  my- 

^fter  all,  it 

le  game — 

and  it  does 

3efore  him, 
onsolately. 
ause,"  said 
vhimper  in 
me,  sir,  an' 
I  long  way 


\ 


Charlie  looked  steadily  in  the  honest,  pale,  care- 
worn face  of  his  companion  for  a  few  seconds  with- 
out speaking.  Poverty,  it  is  said,  brings  together 
strange  bod-fellows.  Not  less,  perhaps,  does  it  lead 
to  unlikely  confidants.  Under  a  sudden  impulse 
our  hero  revealed  to  poor  Zook  the  cause  of  his 
being  there — concealing  nothing  except  names. 

"  You  '11  'scuse  me,  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  after 
the  narrative  was  finished,  "but  I  think  you've 
gone  on  summat  of  a  wild-goose  chase,  for  your 
man  may  never  have  come  so  low  as  to  seek  shelter 
in  sitch  places." 

"  Possibly,  Zook ;  but  he  was  penniless,  and  this, 
or  the  work-house,  seemed  to  me  the  natural  place 
to  look  for  him  in." 

"  'Ave  you  bin  to  the  work-'ouses,  sir  ? " 

"  Yes — at  least  to  all  in  this  neighbourhood." 

"  What !  in  that  toggery  ? "  asked  the  little  man, 
with  a  grin. 

"  Not  exactly,  Zook,  I  can  change  my  shell  like 
the  hermit  crabs." 

"  Well,  sir,  it 's  my  opinion  that  you  may  go  on 
till  doomsday  on  this  scent  an'  find  nuthin' ;  but 
there 's  a  old  'ooman  as  I  knows  on  that  might  be 
able  to  'elp  you.  Mind  I  don't  say  she  could,  but 
she  might.     Moreover,  if  she  can  she  will." 

"How  ? "  asked  Charlie,  somewhat  amused  by  the 
earnestness  of  his  little  friend. 

"  Why,  this  way,     She 's  a  good  old  soul  who  lost 


Hi 

\    '^ 

Pff^' 

li 

1 

ji 

f 

if 


)!!' 


!  I 


i>^ 


'           1 

t 

l 

392 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


'er  'usband  an*  *er  son — if  I  ain't  mistaken — through 
drink,  an'  ever  since,  slie  'as  devoted  'erself  body 
an'  soul  to  save  men  an'  women  from  drink.  She 
attends  temperance  meetin's  an'  takes  people  there 
— a'most  drags  'em  in  by  the  scruff  o'  the  neck. 
She  keeps  'er  eyes  open,  like  a  weasel,  an'  w'enever 
she  sees  a  chance  o'  what  she  calls  pluckin'  a  brand 
out  o'  the  fire,  she  plucks  it,  without  much  regard 
to  burnin'  'er  fingers.  Sometimes  she  gits  one  an' 
another  to  submit  to  her  treatment,  an'  then  she 
locks  'em  up  in  'er  'ouse — though  it  ain't  a  big  un 
— an'  treats  'em,  as  she  calls  it.  She's  got  one 
there  now,  it 's  my  belief,  though  w'ether  it 's  a  he 
or  a  she  I  can't  tell.  Now,  she  may  'ave  seen  your 
friend  goin'  about — if  'e  stayed  long  in  Whitechapel." 

"It  may  be  so,"  returned  our  hero  wearily,  for 
he  was  beginning  to  lose  heart,  and  the  prospect 
opened  up  to  him  by  Zook  did  not  on  the  first  blush 
of  it  seem  very  brilliant.  "  When  could  I  see  this 
old  woman  ? " 

"  First  thing  to-morror  arter  breakfast,  sir." 

"  Very  well ;  then  you  '11  come  and  breakfast  with 
me  at  eight  ? " 

"  I  will,  sir,  with  all  the  pleasure  in  life.  In  this 
'ere  'ouse,  sir,  or  in  a  resterang  ? " 

*'  Neither.     In  my  lodgings,  Zook." 

Having  given  his  address  to  the  little  man,  Charlie 
bade  him  good-night  and  retired  to  his  pauper-bed 
for  the  last  time. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


393 


—through 
self  body 
ink.  She 
)ple  there 
the  neck. 
'  w'enever 
i'  a  brand 
eh  regard 
:s  one  an' 
then  she 
a  big  un 
3  got  one 
:  it 's  a  he 
seen  your 
itechapel." 
earily,  for 
2  prospect 
first  blush 
I  see  this 

sir." 
kfast  with 

I.    In  this 


m,  Charlie 
3auper-bed 


ji 


CHAPTEE    XXXII. 

SUCCESS  AND  FUTURK  PLANS. 

Punctual  to  the  minute  Zook  presented  him- 
self to  Mrs.  Butt  next  morning  and  demanded 
audience. 

^  Mrs.  Butt  had  been  forewarned  of  the  impending 
visit,  and,  although  she  confessed  to  some  uncom- 
fortable feelings  in  respect  of  infection  and  dirt, 
received  him  with  a  gracious  air. 

"  You  Ve  come  to  breakfast,  I  understand  ? " 
"Well,  I  believe  I  'ave,"  answered  the  little  man, 
with  an  involuntary  glance  at  his  dilapidated 
clothes  ;  "  'avin'  been  inwited— unless,"  he  added, 
somewhat  doubtfully,  "the  inwite  came  in  a 
dream." 

"You  may  go  in  and  clear  up  that  point  for 
yourself,"  said  the  landlady,  as  she  usherea  the 
poor  man  into  the  parlour,  where  he  was  almost 
startled  to  find  an  amiable  gentleman  waiting  to 
receive  him. 

"  Come  along,  Zook,  I  like  punctuality.  Are  you 
hungry  ? " 

"'Ungry  as  a  'awk,  sir,"  replied  Zook,  glancing  at 


1:, 

1  ;;, 


f|iili«| 


ili'i|! 


d 


394 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


tho  table  and  rubbing  his  hands,  for  there  entered 
his  nostrils  delicious  odours,  tho  causes  of  which 
very  seldom  entered  his  throat.  "  W'y,  sir,  I  knoiv'd 
you  was  a  gent,  from  the  wery  first ! " 

"I  have  at  least  entered  my  native  shell,"  said 
Charlie,  with  a  laugh.  "  Sit  down.  We  've  no 
time  to  waste.  Now  what '11  you  have?  Coffee, 
tea,  pork-sausage,  ham  and  egg,  buttered  toast,  hot 
rolls.  Just  help  yourself,  and  fancy  you  're  in  the 
lodging-house  at  your  own  table." 

"  Well,  sir,  that  luould  be  a  stretch  o'  fancy  that 
would  strain  me  a'most  to  the  bustin*  p'int.  Coffee, 
if  you  please.  Oh  yes,  sugar  an'  milk  in  course. 
I  never  let  slip  a  chance  as  I  knows  on.  W'ich 
bread  ?  well,  'ot  rolls  is  temptin',  but  I  allers  'ad  a 
weakness  for  sappy  things,  so  'ot  buttered  toast — 
if  you  can  spare  it." 

"  Spare  it,  my  good  man  ? "  said  Charlie,  laughing. 
"  There 's  a  whole  loaf  in  Ihe  kitchen  and  pounds  of 
butter  when  you've  finished  this,  not  to  mention 
the  shops  round  the  corner." 

It  was  a  more  gratifying  treat  to  Charlie  than  he 
had  expected,  to  see  this  poor  man  eat  to  his  heart's 
content  of  viands  which  he  so  thoroughly  appreciated 
and  so  rarely  enjoyed.  What  Zook  himself  felt  it 
is  impossible  for  well-to-do  folk  to  conceive,  or  an 
ordinary  pen  to  describe ;  but,  as  he  sat  there,  opposite 
to  his  big  friend  and  champion,  stowing  away  the 
good  things  with  zest  and  devotion  of  purpose,  it 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


396 


:e  entered 

of  which 

r,  I  hioio'd 

hell,"  said 
We've  no 
?  Coffee, 
.  toast,  hot 
.'re  in  the 

fancy  that 
it.  Coffee, 
:  in  course. 
on.  Wich 
allers  'ad  a 
red  toast — 

c,  laughing. 
:1  pounds  of 
to  mention 

ie  than  he 
his  heart's 
appreciated 
iself  felt  it 
peive,  or  an 
jre,  opposite 
g  away  the 
purpose,  it 


was  easy  to  believe  that  his  watery  eyes  were  charged 
with  the  tears  of  gratitude  as  well  n,3  with  those  of 
a  chronic  cold  to  which  he  was  subject. 

Breakfast  over,  they  started  off  in  quest  of  the  old 
woman  with  teetotal  proclivities. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  know  her  ? "  asked 
Charlie,  as  they  went  along. 

"  Through  a  'ouse  in  the  city  as  I  was  connected 
with  afore  I  got  run  over  an'  lamed.  They  used 
to  send  me  with  parcels  to  this  old  'ooman.  In 
course  I  didn't  know  for  sartin'  w'at  was  in  the 
parcels,  but  'avin'  a  nose,  you  see,  an'  bein'  able  to 
smell,  I  guessed  that  it  was  a  compound  >>'  wittles 
an'  wursted  work." 

"  A  strange  compound,  Zook." 

"Well,  they  wasn't  zactly  compounded — they 
was  sometimes  the  one  an'  sometimes  the  other; 
never  mixed  to  my  knowledge." 

"  What  house  was  it  that  sent  you  ? " 

"  Withers  and  Co." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  Charlie  in  surprise.  "I 
know  the  house  well.  The  head  of  it  is  a  well- 
known  philanthropist.  How  came  you  to  leave 
them  ?  They  never  would  have  allowed  an  old 
servant  to  come  to  your  pass — unless,  indeed,  he 
was " 

"A  fool,  sir,  or  wuss,"  interrupted  Zook;  "an' 
that's  just  what  I  was.  I  runned  away  from  'em, 
sir,  an'  I  've  been  ashamed  to  go  back  since.    But 


Ii 


Wf  :    ;!•    '; 

ii 

■1 

BV  i| 


iiir. 


396 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


that 's  'ow  I  come  to  know  old  Missis  Mag,  an'  it 's 
down  'ere  she  lives." 

They  turned  into  a  narrow  passage  which  led  to 
a  small  court  at  the  back  of  a  mass  of  miserable 
buildings,  and  here  they  found  the  residence  of  the 
old  woman. 

"  By  the  way,  Zook,  what 's  her  name  ? "  asked 
Charlie. 

"  Mrs.  Mag  Samson." 

"  Somehow  the  name  sounds  familiar  to  me,"  said 
Charlie,  as  he  knocked  at  the  door. 

A  very  small  girl  opened  it  and  admitted  that  her 
missis  was  at  'ome ;  whereupon  our  hero  turned  to 
his  companion. 

"  I  '11  manage  her  best  without  company,  Zook," 
he  said ;  "  so  you  be  off ;  and  see  that  you  come  to 
my  lodging  to-night  at  six  to  hear  the  result  of 
my  interview  and  have  tea." 

"  I  will,  sir." 

"And  here,  Zook,  put  that  in  your  pocket,  and 
take  a  good  dinner." 

"  I  will,  sir." 

"And — hallo  1  Zook,  c  ne  here.  Not  a  word 
about  all  this  in  the  lodging-house ; — stay,  now  I 
think  of  it,  don't  go  to  the  lodging-house  at  all. 
Go  to  a  casual  ward  where  they  '11  make  you  take  a 
good  bath.  Be  sure  you  give  yourself  a  good  scrub. 
D'  ye  hear  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 


,E 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


397 


ag,  an'  it's 


tiich  led  to 
£  miserable 
mce  of  the 

le?"  asked 


0  me,"  said 

;ed  that  her 
)  turned  to 

any,  Zook," 
m  come  to 
e  result  of 


pocket,  and 


fot  a  word 
itay,  now  I 
)use  at  all. 
you  take  a 
good  scrub. 


He  walked  away  murmuring,  "More  'am  and 
hegg  an'  buttered  toast  to-night !  Zook,  you  're  in 
luck  to-day — in  clover,  my  boy  !  in  clover ! " 

Meanwhile,  Charlie  Brooke  found  himself  in  the 
presence  of  a  bright-eyed  little  old  woman,  who  bade 
him  welcome  with  the  native  grace  of  one  who  is  a 
born  thoagh  not  a  social  lady,  and  beautified  by 
Christianity.  Her  visitor  went  at  once  straight  to 
the  point. 

"Forgive  my  intrusion,  Mrs.  Samson,"  he  said, 
taking  the  chair  to  which  the  old  woman  pointed, 
'*  but,  indeed,  I  feel  assured  that  you  will,  when  I 
state  that  the  object  of  my  visit  is  to  ask  you  to  aid 
in  the  rescue  of  a  friend  from  drink." 

"  No  man  intrudes  on  me  who  comes  on  such  an 
errand  ;  but  how  does  it  happen,  sir,  that  you  think 
/  am  able  to  aid  you  ? " 

To  this  Charlie  replied  by  giving  her  an  account 
of  his  meeting  and  conversation  with  Zook,  and 
followed  that  up  with  a  full  explanation  of  his  recent 
efforts  and  a  graphic  description  of  Isaac  Leather. 

The  old  woman  listened  attentively,  and,  as  her 
visitor  proceeded,  with  increasing  interest  not  un- 
mingled  with  surprise  and  amusement. 

When  he  had  concluded,  Mrs.  Samson  rose,  and, 
opening  a  door  leading  to  another  room,  held  up  her 
finger  to  impose  silence,  and  softly  bade  him  look  in. 

He  did  so.  The  room  was  a  very  small  one, 
scantily  furnished,  with  a  low  truckle-bed  in  one 


ii 


If    r" 


398 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  !   A  TALE 


I      ' 


I 


corner,  and  there,  on  the  bed,  lay  the  object  of  his 
quest — Isaac  Leather !  Charlie  had  just  time  to  see 
that  the  thin  pale  face  was  not  that  of  a  dead  but  of 
c.  sleeping  man  when  the  old  woman  gently  pulled 
him  back  and  re-closed  the  door. 

"  That 's  your  man,  I  think." 

"Yes,  that's  the  man — I  thank  God  for  this 
most  astonishing  and  unlooked-for  success." 

"  Ah !  sir,"  returned  the  woman,  sitting  down 
again,  "  most  of  our  successes  are  unlocked  for,  and 
when  they  do  come  we  are  not  too  ready  to  recog- 
nise the  hand  of  the  Giver." 

"  Xevertheless  you  must  admit  that  some  incidents 
do  seem  almost  miraculous,"  said  Charlie.  "  To  have 
found  you  out  in  this  great  city,  the  very  person 
who  had  Mr.  Leather  in  her  keeping,  does  seem 
unaccountable,  does  it  not  1 " 

"  Not  so  unaccountable  as  it  seems  to  you,"  replied 
the  old  woman,  "and  certainly  not  so  much  of  a 
miracle  as  it  would  have  been  if  you  had  found  him 
by  searching  the  lodging-houses.  Here  is  the  way 
that  God  seems  to  have  brought  it  about.  I  have 
for  many  years  been  a  pensioner  of  the  house  of 
Withers  and  Co.,  by  whom  I  was  employed  until 
the  senior  partner  made  me  a  sort  of  female  city- 
missionary  amongst  the  poor.  I  devoted  myself 
particularly  to  the  reclaiming  of  drunkards — having 
special  sympathy  with  them.  A  friend  of  mine, 
Miss  Molloy,  also  employed  by  the  senior  partner  in 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


399 


ect  of  his 
;ime  to  see 
ead  but  of 
tly  pulled 


d   for  this 


ing  down 
sd  for,  and 
'■  to  recog- 


e  incidents 

"  To  have 

3ry  person 

does  seem 

m,"  replied 
much  of  a 
found  him 
is  the  way 
t.  I  have 
e  house  of 
oyed  until 
imale  city- 
ted  myself 
Is — having 
i  of  mine, 
partner  in 


works  of  charity,  happened  to  be  acquainted  with 
Mr.  Leather  and  his  family.    She  knew  of  his  failing, 
and   she  found  out — for  she  has  a  strange  power 
that  I  never  could  understand  of  inducing  people  to 
make  a  confidant  of  her,— she  found  out  (what  no 
one  else  knew,  it  seems)  that  poor  Mr.   Leather 
wished  to  put  himself  under  some  sort  of  restraint, 
for  he  could  not  resist  temptation  when  it  came  in 
his  way.     Knowing  about  me,  she  naturally  advised 
him  to  put  himself  in  my  hands.     He  objected  at 
first,  but  agreed  at  last,  on  condition  that  none  of 
his  people  should  be  told  anything  about  it.     I  did 
not  like  to  receive  him  on  such  conditions,  but  gave 
in  because  he  would  come  on  no  other.   Well,  sir,  you 
came  down  here  because  you  had  information  which 
led  you  to  think  Mr.  Leather  had  come  to  this 
part  of  the  city.     You  met  with  a  runaway  servant 
of  Withers  and  Co.— not  very  wonderful  that.    He 
naturally  knows  about  me  and  fetches  you  here. 
Don't  you  see  ? " 

"Yes,  I  see,"  replied  Charlie,  with  an  amused 
expression;  "still  I  cannot  help  looking  on  the 
whole  affair  as  very  wonderful,  and  I  hope  that 
that  does  not  disqualify  me  from  recognising  God's 
leading  in  the  matter." 

"  Nay,  young  sir,"  returned  the  old  woman,  "  that 
ought  rather  to  qualify  you  for  such  recognition,  for 
are  not  His  ways  said  to  be  wonderful— ay,  some- 
times 'past  finding  out'  ?    But  what  we  know  not 


H 


m 

,i 

<i 

H 

4 


'ni 


400 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


!ii 


i|ii 


I  i 


I 


i 


now  we  shall  know  hereafter.     I  thought  that  when 
my  poor  boy  went  to  sea " 


"  Mrs.  Samson !"  exclaimed  Charlie,  with  a  sudden 
start,  "  I  see  it  now  !    Was  your  boy's  name  Fred?" 

"  It  was." 

"  And  he  went  to  sea  in  the  Walrus,  that  was 
wrecked  in  the  Southern  Ocean  ? " 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  the  old  woman  eagerly. 

"  Then,"  said  Charlie,  drawing  a  packet  from  the 
breast-pocket  of  his  coat, "  Fred  gave  me  this  for  you. 
I  have  carried  it  about  me  ever  since,  in  the  hope 
that  I  might  find  you.  I  came  to  London,  but 
found  you  had  left  the  address  written  on  the 
packet,  and  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  the  owners 
of  the  Walrus  would  know  anything  about  the 
mother  of  one  of  the  men  who  sailed  in  her.  I 
have  a  message  also  from  your  son." 

The  message  was  delivered,  and  Charlie  was  still 
commenting  on  it,  when  the  door  of  the  inner  room 
opened  and  Isaac  Leather  stood  before  them. 

"Charlie  Brooke!"  he  exclaimed,  in  open-eyed 
amazement,  not  unmingled  with  confusion. 

"Ay,  and  a  most  unexpected  meeting  on  both 
sides,"  said  Charlie,  advancing  and  holding  out  his 
hand.  "  I  bring  you  good  news,  Mr.  Leather,  of  your 
son  Shank." 

"Do  you  indeed?"  said  the  broken-down  man, 
eagerly  grasping  his  young  friend's  hand.  "What 
have  you  to  tell  me  ?    Oh  Charlie,  you  have  no  idea 


that  when 

h.  a  sudden 
ime  Fred?" 

s,  that  was 

et  from  the 
his  for  you. 
in  the  hope 
ondon,  but 
;en  on  the 
the  owners 
about  the 
in  her.     I 

lie  was  still 
inner  room 
lem. 

open-eyed 
n. 

ig  on  both 
iing  out  his 
;her,  of  your 

•down  man, 
id.  "What 
lave  no  idea 


OF  THE  SKA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


401 


what  terrible  thoughts  I've  had  about  that  dear 
boy  since  he  went  off  to  America !  My  sin  has 
found  me  out,  Charlie.  I've  often  heard  that 
said  before,  but  have  never  fully  believed  it  till 
now." 

"  God  sends  you  a  message  of  mercy,  then,"  said 
our  hero,  who  thereupon  began  to  relieve  the  poor 
man's  mind  by  telling  him  of  his  son's  welfare  and 
reformation. 

But  we  need  not  linger  over  this  part  of  the 
story,  for  the  reader  can  easily  guess  a  good  deal 
of  what  was  said  to  Leather,  while  old  Mrs. 
Samson  was  perusing  the  letter  of  her  dead  son, 
and  tears  of  mingled  sorrow  and  joy  coursed 
down  her  withered  cheeks. 

That  night,  however,  Charlie  Brooke  conceived  a 
vast  idea,  and  partially  revealed  it  at  the  tea-table 
to  Zook— whose  real  name,  by  the  way,  was  Jim 
Smith. 

"  'Ave  you  found  'er,  sir  ? "  said  Mrs.  Butt,  putting 
the  invariable,  and  by  that  time  annoying,  question 
as  Charlie  entered  his  lodmno- 

"No,  Mrs.  Butt,  I  haven't  found  'cr,  and  I  don't 
expect  to  find  'er  at  all." 

"  Lawk  !  sir,  I  'm  so  sorry." 

"  Has  Mr.  Zook  come  ? " 

"Yes,  sir  'e's  inside  and  looks  impatient.  The 
smell  o'  the  toast  seems  a'most  too  strong  a  t(?nipta- 
tion  for  'im ;  I  'm  glad  you  've  come." 

20 


i 


l1 


i  i 


i    \ 

i  ■:■ 

i  .                                       1 

.  1    ■ 

rl         ■                       ■ 

1         i                  ■   :( 

i 

,1 

■  1 

! 

ii 

402 


CHAKLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :    A  TALE 


"Look  here,  Zuok,"  said  Charlie,  entering  his 
parlour,  "go  into  that  bedroom.  You'll  find  a 
bundle  of  new  clothes  there.  Put  them  on.  Wrap 
your  old  clothes  in  a  handkerchief,  and  bring  them 
to  me.     Tea  will  be  ready  when  you  are." 

The  surprised  pauper  did  as  he  was  bid,  without 
remark,  and  re-entered  the  parlour  a  new  man  I 

"  My  own  mother,  if  I  *ad  one,  wouldn't  know 
me,  sir,"  he  said,  glancing  admiringly  at  his  vest. 

"Jim  Smith,  Esquire,"  returned  Charlie,  laughing. 
"  I  really  don't  think  she  would." 

"Zook,  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  with  a  grave 
shake  of  the  head  ;  "  couldn't  think  of  cliangin'  my 
name  at  my  time  of  life;  let  it  be  Zook,  if  you 
please,  sir,  though  in  course  I've  no  objection  to 
esquire,  w'en  I  'ave  the  means  to  maintain  my 
rank." 

"  Well,  Zook,  you  have  at  all  events  the  means 
to  make  a  good  supper,  so  sit  down  and  go  to  work, 
and  I  '11  talk  to  you  while  you  eat, — but,  stay,  hand 
me  the  bundle  of  old  clothes." 

Charlie  opened  the  window  as  he  spoke,  took  hold 
of  the  bundle,  and  discharged  it  into  the  back  yard. 

"  There,"  he  said,  sitting  down  at  the  table,  "  that 
will  prove  an  object  of  interest  to  the  cats  all  night, 
and  a  subject  of  surprise  to  good  Mrs.  Butt  in  the 
morning.  Now,  Zook,"  he  added,  when  his  guest  was 
fairly  at  work  taking  in  cargo, "  I  want  to  ask  you — 
have  you  any  objection  to  emigrate  to  America  ? " 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


403 


tering  his 

'11  find   a 

m.    Wrap 

bring  them 

id,  without 
man ! 

dn't  know 
tiis  vest. 
e,  laughing. 

th  a  grave 
;hangin'  my 
ook,  if  you 
Dbjection  to 
aintain  my 

the  means 
go  to  work, 
,  stay,  hand 

e,  took  hold 

back  yard. 

able,  "  that 

ts  all  night. 

Butt  in  the 

is  guest  was 

0  ask  you — 

■  merica  ? " 


"Not  the  smallest,"  he  said — as  well  as  was 
possible  through  a  full  mouth.  "  Bein'  a  orphling,  so 
to  speak,  owin'  to  my  never  'avin*  'ad  a  father  or 
mother — as  I  knows  on — there 's  nothin'  that  chains 
me  to  old  England  'cept  poverty." 

"  Could  you  do  without  drink  ? " 

"Sca'sely,  sir,  seein'  the  doctors  say  that  man 
is  about  three  parts — or  four,  is  it? — made  up  o' 
water ;  I  would  be  apt  to  grow  mummified  without 
drink,  wouldn't  I,  sir  ? " 

"Come,  Zook — you  know  that  I  mean  stro7ig 
drink — alcohol  in  all  its  forms." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  Well,  sir,  as  to  that,  I  've  bin  in  the 
'abit  of  doin'  without  it  so  much  of  late  from  need- 
cessity  that  I  don't  think  I'd  find  much  difficulty 
in  knocking  it  off  altogether  if  I  was  to  bring  prin- 
ciple to  bear." 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  Charlie,  "(have  some  more 
ham  ?)  I  have  just  conceived  a  plan.  I  have  a  friend 
in  America  who  is  a  reformed  drunkard.  His  father 
in  this  country  is  also,  I  hope,  a  reformed  drunkard. 
There  is  a  good  man  out  there,  I  understand,  who 
has  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  reformed  drunkards, 
and  he  has  got  up  a  large  body  of  friends  and  sym- 
pathisers who  have  determined  to  go  away  into  the 
far  west  and  there  organise  a  total  abstinence  com- 
munity, and  found  a  village  or  town  where  nothing 
in  the  shape  of  alcohol  shall  be  admitted  except 
as  physic. 


1: 


I  I 


I-; 


iiii 


kr- 


(I  ! 


404 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


"  Now,  I  have  a  lot  of  friends  in  England  who, 
I  think,  would  go  in  for  such  an  expedition  if " 

"Are  they  all  reformed  drunkards,  sir?"  asked 
Zook  in  surprise,  arresting  a  mass  of  sausage  in  its 
course  as  he  asked  the  question. 

"By  no  means,"  returned  Charlie  with  a  laugh, 
"  but  they  are  earnest  souls,  and  I  'm  sure  will  go  if 
I  try  to  persuade  them." 

"  You  're  sure  to  succeed,  sir,"  said  Zook,  "  if  your 
persuasions  is  accompanied  wi'  sassengers,  'am,  an' 
buttered  toast,"  remarked  the  little  man  softly,  as 
he  came  to  a  pause  for  a  few  seconds. 

"  I  '11  bring  to  bear  on  them  all  the  arguments  that 
are  available,  you  may  be  sure.  Meanwhile  I  shall 
count  you  my  first  recruit." 

"No.  1  it  is,  sir,  w'ich  is  more  than  I  can  say 
of  this  here  slice,"  said  Zook,  helping  himself  to 
more  toast. 

While  the  poor  but  happy  man  was  thus  pleasantly 
engaged,  his  entertainer  opened  his  writing  portfolio 
and  began  to  scribble  off  note  after  note,  with  such 
rapidity  that  the  amazed  pauper  at  his  elbow  fairly 
lost  his  appetite,  and,  after  a  vain  attempt  to  recover 
it,  suggested  that  it  might  be  as  well  for  him  to  retire 
to  one  of  the  palatial  fourpence-a-night  residences  in 
Dean  and  Flower  Street. 

"  Not  to-night.  You  've  done  me  a  good  turn  that 
I  shall  never  forget,"  said  Charlie,  rising  and  ringing 
the  bell  with  needless  vigour. 


igland  who, 

ion  if " 

dr?"  asked 
isage  in  its 


th  a  laugh, 
re  will  go  if 

»k,  "if  your 
rs,  'am,  an' 
a  softly,  as 


Liments  that 
'hile  I  shall 

1 1  can  say 
himself  to 

s  pleasantly 
ng  portfolio 
,  with  such 
ilbow  fairly 
)t  to  recover 
lim  to  retire 
esidences  in 

3d  turn  that 
and  ringing 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES.       405 

"  Be  kind  enough,  Mrs.  Butt,  to  show  Mr.  Zook  to 
his  bedroom," 

"  My  heye ! "  murmured  the  pauper,  marching 
off  with  two  full  inches  added  to  his  stature.  «  Not 
in  there,  I  suppose,  missis,"  he  said  facetiously,  as  he 
passed  the  coal-hole. 

"Oh,  lawks!  no~this  way,"  replied  the  good 
woman,  who  was  becoming  almost  imbecile  under  the 
eccentricities  of  her  lodger.  «  This  is  your  bedroom, 
and  I  only  'ope  it  won't  turn  into  a  band-box  before 
morning,  for  of  all  the  transformations  an'  pantimimes 
as  'as  took  place  in  this  'ouse  since  Mr.  Brooke 
entered  it,  I " 

She  hesitated,  and,  not  seeing  her  way  quite 
clearly  to  the  fitting  end  of  the  sentence,  asked  if 
Mr.  Zook  would  'ave  'ot  water  in  the  morning. 

"No,  thank  you,  Missis,"  replied  the  littL  man 
with  dignity,  while  he  felt  the  stubble  on  his  chin ; 
"  'avin  left  my  razors  at  'ome  I  prefers  the  water  cold."' 

Leaving  Zook  to  his  meditations,  Mrs.  Butt  retired 
to  bed,  remarking,  as  she  extinguished  the  candle, 
that  Mr.  Brooke  was  still  "a-writin'  like  a  'ouse  a 
fire!" 


406 


CIIAllLIE  TO  THE  IIKSCUE  :   A  TALE 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


SWEETWATEK  BLUFF. 


I 


ii 


ji. 


We  must  now  leap  over  a  considerable  space,  not 
only  of  distance,  but  of  time,  in  order  to  appreciate 
fully  the  result  of  Charlie  Brooke's  furious  letter- 
writing  and  amazing  powers  of  persuasion. 

Let  the  reader  try  to  imagine  a  wide  plateau, 
dotted  with  trees  and  bushes,  on  one  of  the  eastern 
slopes  of  the  Eocky  Mountains,  where  that  mighty 
range  begins  to  slide  into  union  with  the  great 
prairies.  It  commands  a  view  of  mingled  wood- 
land and  rolling  plain,  diversified  by  river  and  lake, 
extending  to  a  horizon  so  faint  and  far  away  as  to 
suggest  the  idea  of  illimitable  space. 

Early  one  morning  in  spring  five  horsemen 
emerging  from  a  belt  of  woodland,  galloped  to  the 
slope  that  led  to  the  summit  of  this  plateau. 
Drawing  rein,  they  began  slowly  to  ascend.  Two 
of  the  cavaliers  were  young,  tall,  and  strong ;  two 
were  portly  and  old,  though  still  hearty  and  vigor- 
ous ;  one,  who  led  them,  on  a  coal-black  steed,  was 
a  magnificent  specimen  of  the  backwoods-man,  and 
one,  who  brought  up  the  rear,  was  a  thin  little  man, 


space,  not 
appreciate 
ious  letter- 
a. 

ie  plateau, 
blie  eastern 
lat  mighty 
the  great 
led  wood- 
ir  and  lake, 
away  as  to 

horsemen 
ped  to  the 
is  plateau, 
end.  Two 
rong;  two 
and  vigor- 
steed,  was 
3-man,  and 
little  man, 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


407 


who  made  up  for  what  he  wanted  in  size  by  the 
energy  and  vigour  of  his  action,  as,  with  hand  and 
heel,  he  urged  an  unwilling  horse  to  keep  up  with 
the  rest  of  the  party. 

Arrived  at  the  summit  of  the  plateau,  the  leading 
horseman  trotted  to  its  eastern  edge,  and  halted  as 
if  for  the  purpose  of  surveying  the  position. 

"  Here  we  are  at  last,"  he  said,  to  the  tallest  of 
his  comrades ;  "  Sweetwater  Bluff — and  the  end  of 
our  journey ! " 

"  And  a  most  noble  end  it  is ! "  exclaimed  the  tall 
comrade.  "  Why,  Hunky  Ben,  it  far  surpasses  my 
expectations  and  all  you  have  said  about  it." 

"  Most  o'  the  people  I  've  had  to  guide  over  this 
trail  have  said  jjretty  much  the  same  thing  in 
different  words,  .'  Ir.  Brooke,"  returned  the  scout, 
dismounting.  "  .i^ :  ur  wife  will  find  plenty  o'  subjects 
here  for  the  pain'  n*  she's  so  fond  of." 

"  Ay,  May  will  tind  work  here  to  keep  her  brushes 
busy  for  many  fi  day  to  come,"  replied  Charlie, 
"though  I  suspect  that  other  matters  will  claim 
most  of  her  time  at  first,  for  there  is  nothing  but 
a  wilderness  here  yet." 

"  You  've  yet  to  larn,  sir,  that  we  don't  take  as 
long  to  fix  up  a  town  hereaway  as  you  do  in  the 
old  country,"  remarked  Hunky  Ben,  as  old  Jacob 
Crossley  ambled  up  on  the  staid  creature  which  we 
have  already  introduced  as  Wheelbarrow. 

Waving  his  hand  with  enthusiasm  the  old  gentle- 


r 


i|i> 


■                    ( 

'II 

! 

f 

1 

{■:                    1 

1 

1 

j        4 

1 ' 
1 

'1 

1 

408 


CIIARLIK  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


man  exclaimed,  "Glorious!"  Indeed,  for  a  few 
minutes  he  sat  with  glistening  eyes  and  heaving 
chest,  quite  unable  to  give  vent  to  any  other  senti- 
ment than  "glorious!"  This  he  did  at  intervals. 
His  interest  in  *^  "^  scene,  however,  was  distracted 
by  the  sudden  ./ent  of  Captain  Stride,  whose 
horse — a  long-legged  roan — had  an  awkward 
tendency,  among  other  eccentricities,  to  advance 
sideways  with  a  waltzing  gait,  that  greatly  discon- 
certed the  mariner. 

"  Woa  I  you  brute.  Back  your  tops'ls,  won't  you  ? 
I  never  did  see  sitch  a  craft  for  heavin'  about  like 
a  Dutch  lugger  in  a  cross  sea.  She  sails  side  on, 
no  matter  where  she's  bound  for.  Forges  ahead 
a'most  entirely  ^  means  of  leeway,  so  to  speak. 
Hallo  1  woa  I  '  ha  grip  o'  the  painter,  Dick, 
an'  hold  on  till  I  git  off  the  hurricane  deck  o'  this 
walrus — else  I  '11  be  overboard  in  a .   There " 

The  captain  came  to  the  ground  suddenly  as  he 
spoke,  without  the  use  of  stirrup,  and,  luckily,  with- 
out injury. 

"  Not  hurt,  I  hope  ? "  asked  Dick  Darvall,  r  jsisting 
his  brother-salt  to  rise. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  Dick.  You  see  I  'm  a'most 
as  active  as  yourself,  though  double  your  age,  if 
not  more.  I  say,  Charlie,  this  is  a  pretty  look-out. 
Don't  'ee  think  so,  Mr.  Crossley  ?  I  was  sure  that 
Hunky  Ben  would  find  us  a  pleasant  anchorage  and 
safe  holding-ground  at  last,  though  it  did  seem 


1 


OF  Tlir<^  SEA  AND  TIIK  ROCKIES. 


409 


for  a  few 
d  heaving 
,her  senti- 

intervals. 
distracted 
de,  whose 

awkward 
0  advance 
tly  discon- 

won't  you  ? 
about  like 
,ils  side  on, 
rges  ahead 

to  speak, 
nter,  Dick, 
eck  o'  this 

rhere " 

lenly  as  he 

kilv,  with- 

11,  r  :sisting 

;'m  a'most 
our  age,  if 
;y  look-out. 
,s  sure  that 
;horage  and 
did  seem 


as  if  we  was  pretty  long  o'  coniiii'  to  it.  Just  as 
we  was  leavin'  the  waggins  to  ride  on  in  advance 
I  said  to  my  missus — says  I — Maggie,  you  may 
depend " 

"Hallo!  Zook,"  cried  Charlie,  as  the  little  man 
of  the  slums  came  limping  up,  "what  have  you 
done  with  your  horse  ? " 

"  Cast  'im  loose,  sir,  an'  gi'n  'im  leave  of  absence 
as  long  as  'e  pleases.  It 's  my  opinion  that  some  o* 
the  'osses  o'  the  western  prairies  ain't  quite  eekal  to 
some  o'  the  'osses  I  've  bin  used  to  in  Rotten  Eow. 
Is  this  the  place,  Hunky  ?  Well,  now,"  continued 
the  little  man,  with  flashing  eyes,  as  he  looked  round 
on  the  magnificent  scene,  "  it  '11  do.  Beats  Wite- 
chapel  an'  the  Parks  any'ow.  An'  there's  lots  o* 
poultry  about,  too  ! "  he  added,  as  a  flock  of  wild 
ducks  went  by  on  whistling  wings.  "  I  say,  Hunky 
Ben,  w'at's  yon  brown  things  over  there  by  the 
shores  o'  the  lake  ? " 

"  Buffalo,"  answered  the  scout. 

"What!  wilduns?" 

"There's  no  tame  ones  in  them  diggin's  as  I 
knows  on.  If  there  wac,  they  'd  soon  become  wild, 
you  bet." 

"An'  w'at's  yon  monster  crawlin'  over  the 
farthest  plain,  like  the  great  sea-serpent  ? " 

"Why,  man,"  returned  the  scout,  "them's  the 
waggins.  Come,  now,  let 's  to  work  an'  git  the  fire 
lit.    The  cart  wi'  the  chuck  an'  tents  '11  be  here  in 


■ 
1 


f  ?!'. 

i 

f  1 

1 

i 


410 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  llESCUE :  A  TALE 


a  few  minutes,  an'  the  waggins  won't  be  long  arter 


em- 


"  Ay,  wi'  the  women  an'  kids  shoutin'  for  grub," 
added  Zook,  as  he  limped  after  the  scout,  while  the 
rest  of  the  little  band  dispersed — some  to  cut  fire- 
wood, others  to  select  the  best  positions  for  the  tents. 
The  waggons,  with  a  supply  of  food,  arrived  soon 
after  under  the  care  o^  Eoaring  Bull  himself,  with 
two  of  his  cowboys.  They  were  followed  by  Butter- 
cup, who  bestrode,  man-fashion,  a  mustang  nearly 
as  black  as  herself  and  even  more  frisky.    , 

In  a  wonderfully  short  time  a  number  of  white 
tents  arose  on  the  plateau  and  several  fires  blazed, 
and  at  all  the  fires  Buttercup  laboured  with  super- 
human effect,  assisted  by  the  cowboys,  to  the 
unbounded  admiration  of  Zook,  who  willingly  super- 
intended everything,  but  did  little  or  nothing.  A 
flat  rock  on  the  highest  point  was  chosen  for  the 
site  of  a  future  block-house  or  citadel,  and  upon  this 
was  ere  long  spread  a  breakfast  on  a  magnificent 
scale.  It  was  barely  ready  when  the  first  waggons 
arrived  and  commenced  to  lumber  up  the  ascent, 
preceded  by  two  girls  on  horseback,  who  waved 
their  hands,  and  gave  vent  to  vigorous  little 
feminine  cheers  as  they  cantered  up  the  slope. 

These  two  were  our  old  friends  whom  we  knew 
as  May  Leather  and  Mary  Jackson,  but  who  must 
now  be  re-introduced  to  the  reader  as  Mrs.  Charlie 
Brooke  and  Mrs.  Dick  Darvall.    On  the  same  day 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


4il 


long  arter 

'  for  grub," 
,  while  the 
;o  cut  fire- 
)r  the  tents, 
rrived  soon 
mself,  with 
by  Butter- 
;ang  nearly 

er  of  white 
fires  blazed, 
with  super- 
lys,    to   the 
ngly  super- 
lothing.    A 
sen  for  the 
d  upon  this 
magnificent 
fst  waggons 
the  ascent, 
who  waved 
Irous    little 
slope. 

ni  we  knew 
b  who  must 
Irs.  Charlie 
le  same  day 


they  had  changed  their  names  at  the  Kanch  of 
Bearing  Bull,  and  had  come  to  essay  wedded  life  in 
the  far  west. 

We  need  hardly  say  that  this  was  the  great  ex- 
perimental emigrant  party,  led  by  the  Kev.  William 
Keeves,  who  had  resolved  to  found  a  colony  on 
total  abstinence  principles,  and  with  as  many  as 
possible  of  the  sins  of  civilisation  left  behind. 
They  found,  alas !  that  sin  is  not  so  easily  got  rid 
of;  nevertheless,  the  effort  was  not  altogether  fruit- 
less, and  Mr.  Reeves  carried  with  him  a  sovereign 
antidote  for  sin  in  the  shape  of  a  godly  spirit. 

The  party  was  a  large  one,  for  there  were  many 
men  and  women  of  the  frontier  whose  experiences 
had  taught  them  that  life  was  happier  and  better 
in  every  way  without  the  prevalent  vices  of  gam- 
bling and  drinking. 

Of  course  the  emigrants  formed  rather  a  motley 
band.  Among  them,  besides  those  of  our  friends 
already  mentioned,  there  were  our  hero's  mother 
and  all  the  Leather  family.  Captain  Stride's 
daughter  as  well  as  his  "  Missus,"  and  Mr.  Crossley's 
housekeeper,  Mrs.  Bland.  That  good  woman,  how- 
ever, had  been  much  subdued  and  rendered  harmless 
by  the  terrors  of  the  wilderness,  to  which  she  had 
been  recently  exposed.  Miss  Molloy  was  also  there, 
with  an  enormous  supply  of  knitting  needles  and 
several  bales  of  worsted. 

Poor  Shank  Leather  was  still  so  much  of  an  in- 


rr 


i:! 


412 


CHARLIE  TO  TIIK  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


valid  as  to  be  obliged  to  travel  in  a  spring  cart  with 
his  father,  but  both  men  were  rapidly  regaining 
physical  strength  under  the  influence  of  temperance, 
and  spiritual  strength  under  a  higher  power. 

Soon  the  hammer,  axe,  and  saw  began  to  resound 
in  that  lovely  western  wilderness ;  the  net  to  sweep 
its  lakes ;  the  hook  to  invade  its  rivers ;  the  rifle  to 
crack  in  the  forests,  and  the  plough  to  open  up  its 
virgin  soil.  In  less  time,  almost,  than  a  European 
would  take  to  wink,  the  town  of  Sweetwater  Bluff 
sprang  into  being;  stores  and  workshops,  a  school 
and  a  church,  grew  up  like  mushrooms ;  seed  was 
sown,  and  everything,  in  short,  was  done  that  is 
characteristic  of  the  advent  of  a  thriving  com- 
munity. But  not  a  gambling  or  drinking  snloon,  or 
a  drop  of  firewater,  was  to  be  found  in  all  the  town. 

In  spite  of  this,  Indians  brought  their  furs  to  it ; 
trappers  came  to  it  for  supplies ;  emigrants  turned 
aside  to  see  and  rest  in  it;  and  the  place  soon 
became  noted  as  a  flourishing  and  pre-eminently 
peaceful  spot. 


E 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  KOCKIES. 


413 


g  cart  with 

r  regaining 

temperance, 

sver. 

I  to  resound 

et  to  sweep 

the  rifle  to 
open  up  its 
a  European 
:water  Bluff 
DS,  a  school 
5;  seed  was 
me  that  is 
iving  com- 
g  sf.looR,  or 
ill  the  town, 
r  furs  to  it; 
[•ants  turned 

place  soon 
e-eminently 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

THE  LAST. 

But  a  little  cloud  arose  ere  long  on  the  horizon 
of  Sweetwater  Bluff.  lusigniflcant  at  first,  it  sud- 
denly spread  over  the  sky  and  burst  in  a  wild  storm. 

The  first  intimation  of  its  approach  came  from 
Charlie  Brooke  one  quiet  autumn  evening,  in  that 
brief  but  delightful  season  known  as  the  Indian 
Summer. 

Charlie  entered  his  garden  that  evening  with  a 
fowling-piece  on  his  shoulder,  and  two  brace  of 
prairie  hens  at  his  girdle.  May  was  seated  at  her 
cottage  door,  basking  in  sunshine,  chatting  with  her 
mother— who  was  knitting  of  course— and  Shank 
was  conversing  with  Hunky  Ben,  who  rested  after 
a  day  of  labour. 

"  There,  May,  is  to-morrow's  dinner,"  said  Charlie, 
throwing  the  birds  at  his  wife's  feet,  and  sitting 
down  beside  her.  "Who  d'you  think  I  passed 
when  I  was  out  on  the  plains  to-day,  Hunky? 
Your  old  friend  Crux  the  Cowboy." 

"  He 's  no  friend  o'  mine,"  said  the  scout,  while 


414 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :   A  TALE 


something  like  a  frown  flitted  across  his  usually 
placid  brow.  "  I  'm  not  over  pleased  to  hear  that 
he  *s  comin',  for  it 's  said  that  some  old  uncle  or 
aunt  o'  his — I  forget  which — has  left  him  a  lot  o' 
dollars.  I  hope  he  ain't  comin'  to  spend  'em  here, 
for  he'd  never  git  along  without  gamblin'  an' 
drinkin'." 

"  Then,  I  can  tell  you  that  he  is  just  coming  to 
stay  here,"  returned  Charlie,  "for  he  has  several 
waggons  with  him,  and  a  dozen  men.  I  asked  him 
where  he  was  going  to,  and  he  said,  to  locate  him- 
self as  a  store-keeper  at  Sweetwater  Bluff;  but  he 
did  not  seem  inclined  to  be  communicative,  so  I  left 
him  and  galloped  on  to  report  the  news.  What 
d'  you  think  about  it  ? " 

"  I  think  it  '11  be  a  bad  day  for  Sweetwater  Bluff 
when  Crux  comes  to  settle  in  it.  Howsoever,  this 
is  a  free  country,  an'  we've  no  right  to  interfere 
with  him  so  long  as  he  don't  break  the  laws.  But 
I  doubt  him.  I  'm  afeard  he  '11  try  to  sell  drink,  an' 
there's  some  o'  our  people  who  are  longin'  to  git 
back  to  that." 

The  other  members  of  the  party,  and  indeed 
those  heads  of  the  town  generally  who  knew  Crux, 
were  of  much  the  same  opinion,  but  some  of  them 
thought  that,  being  in  a  free  country,  no  one  had  a 
right  to  interfere.  The  consequence  was  that  Crux 
and  his  men  were  permitted  to  go  to  work.  They 
hired  a  shed  in  which  to  stow  their  goods,  while 


his  usually 
to  hear  that 
)ld  uncle  or 
him  a  lot  o' 
ad  'em  here, 
;ambliii'    an' 

.st  coming  to 
has  several 
I  asked  him 
3  locate  him- 
Bluff;  but  he 
tive,  so  I  left 
ews.      What 

etwater  Bluff 
)WSoever,  this 
b  to  interfere 
le  laws.  But 
sell  drink,  an' 
[ongin'  to  git 

,  and  indeed 
10  knew  Crux, 
some  of  them 
,  no  one  had  a 
was  that  Crux 
)  work.  They 
•  goods,  while 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


415 


they  were  engaged  in  building  a  store,  and  in  course 
of  time  this  was  finished ;  but  there  was  a  degree  of 
mystery  about  the  ex-cowboy's  proceedings  which 
baffled  investigation,  and  people  did  not  like  to  press 
inquiry  too  far ;  for  it  was  observed  that  all  the  men 
wlio  had  accompanied  Crux  were  young  and  powerful 
fellows,  well  armed  with  rifle  and  revolver. 

At  last,  however,  the  work  was  finished,  and  the 
mystery  was  cleared  up,  for,  one  fine  morning,  the 
new  store  was  opened  as  a  drinking  and  gambling 
saloon;  and  that  same  evening  the  place  was  in 
full  swing— sending  forth  the  shouts,  songs,  cursing 
and  demoniac  laughter  for  which  such  places  are 
celebrated. 

Consternation  filled  thu  hearts  of  the  community, 
for  it  was  not  only  the  men  brought  there  by  Crux 
who  kept  up  their  revels  in  the  new  saloon,  but  a 
sprinkling  of  the  spirited  young  fellows  of  the  town 
also,  who  had  never  been  very  enthusiastic  in  the 
temperance  cause,  and  were  therefore  prepared  to 
fall  before  the  first  temptation. 

At  a  conference  of  the  chief  men  of  the  town  it 
was  resolved  to  try  to  induce  Crux  to  quit  quietly, 
and  for  this  end  to  offer  to  buy  up  his  stock-in-trade.' 
Hunky  Ben,  being  an  old  acquaintance,  was  re- 
quested to  go  to  the  store  as  a  deputation. 

But  the  ex-cowboy  was  inexorable.  Neither  the 
offer  of  morey  uor  argument  had  any  effect  on  him. 

"  Well,  Crux,"  said  the  scout,  at  the  conclusion  of 


i^i 


!(f 


416 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE :   A  TALE 


his  visit,  "you  know  your  own  affairs  best,  but, 
rememberin'  as  I  do  what  you  used  to  be,  I  thought 
there  was  more  of  fair-play  about  you." 

"  Fair-play !    What  d'  ye  mean  ? " 

"  I  mean  that  when  folk  let  yoio  alone,  you  used 
to  be  willin'  to  let  them  alone.  Here  has  a  crowd 
o'  people  come  back  all  this  way  into  the  Eockies 
to  escape  from  the  curse  o'  strong  drink  and  gamblin*, 
an'  here  has  Crux — a  lover  o*  fair-play — come  all 
this  way  to  shove  that  curse  right  under  their  noses. 
I  'd  thowt  better  of  ye,  Crux,  lad." 

"It  don't  matter  much  what  you  thowt  o*  me, 
old  man,"  returned  the  cowboy,  somewhat  sharply ; 
"  an',  as  to  fair-play,  there 's  a  lot  of  men  here  who 
don't  agree  wi'  your  humbuggin'  notions  about 
temperance  an'  tee-totalism — more  of  'em,  maybe, 
than  you  think.  These  want  to  have  the  drink,  an' 
I  've  come  to  give  it  'em.   I  see  nothin'  unfair  in  that." 

Hunky  Ben  carried  his  report  back  to  the  council, 
which  for  some  time  discussed  the  situation.  As  in 
the  case  of  most  councils,  there  was  some  difference 
of  opinion :  a  few  of  the  members  being  inclined  to 
carry  things  with  a  high  hand — being  urged  thereto 
by  Captain  Stride — while  others,  influenced  chiefly 
by  Mr.  Eeeves,  were  anxious  to  try  peaceable  means. 

At  last  a  sub-committee  was  appointed,  at  Hunky 
Ben's  suggestion,  to  consider  the  whole  matter,  and 
tak3  what  steps  seemed  advisable.  Hunky  was  an 
adroit  and  modest  man — he  could  not  have  been  a 
first-rate  scout  otherwise!      He  managed  not  only 


LE 


:s  best,  but, 
le,  I  thought 


ne,  you  used 
has  a  crowd 
the  Rockies 
and  gamblin', 
a,y — come  all 
3r  their  noses. 

thowt  o'  me, 
^hat  sharply; 
aen  here  who 
lotions   about 
I  'em,  maybe, 
the  drink,  an' 
mf  air  in  that." 
to  the  council, 
lation.     As  in 
)me  difference 
ns  inclined  to 
;  urged  thereto 
uenced  chiefly 
aceable  means, 
ited,  at  Hunky 
)le  matter,  and 
Hunky  was  an 
t  have  been  a 
laged  not  only 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES.       417 

to  become  convener  of  the  committee,  but  succeeded 
in  getting  men  chiefly  of  his  own  opinion  placed  on  it. 
At  supper  that  night  in  Charlie's  cottage,  while 
enjoying  May's  cookery  and  presence,  and  waited 
on  by  the  amused  and  interested  Buttercup,  the 
sub-committee  discussed  and  settled  the  plan  of 
operations. 

"It's  all  nonsense,"  said  Hunky  Ben,  "to  talk  of 
tryiii'  to  persuade  Crux.  He's  as  obstinate  as  a 
Texas  mule  wi'  the  toothache." 

"  Rubbish  ! "  exclaimed  Captain  Stride,  smiting  the 
table  with  his  .fist.  "  We  mustn't  parley  with  him, 
but  heave  him  overboard  at  once  !  I  said  so  to  my 
missus  this  very  day.     'Maggie,'  says  I " 

"And  what  do  //ou  think,  Charlie?"  asked  Mr. 
Crossley. 

"  I  think  with  Hunky  Ben,  of  course.  He  knows 
Crux,  and  what  is  best  to  be  done  in  the  circumstances. 
The  only  thing  that  perplexes  me  is  what  shall  we 
do  with  the  liquor  when  we  've  paid  for  it  ?  A  lot 
rf  it  is  good  wine  and  champagne,  and  although 
useless  as  a  beverage  it  is  useful  .as  a  medicine,  and 
might  be  given  to  hospitals." 

"  Pour  it  out ! "  exclaimed  Shank,  almost  fiercely. 

"  Ay,  the  hospitals  can  look  out  for  themselves," 
added  Shank's  father  warmly. 

"  Some  hospitals,  I  've  bin  told,  git  on  well  enough 
without  it  altogether,"  said  £)ick  Darvall.  "  How- 
ever, it's  a  subject  that  desarves  consideration.— 

2d 


mr 


f  ' 


418 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  IIESGUE  :   A  TALE 


Hallo !  Buttercup,  what  is  it  that  tickles  your  fancy 
an'  makes  your  mouth  stretch  out  like  that  ? " 

Buttercup  became  preternaturally  grave  on  the 
instant,  but  declined  to  tell  what  it  was  tliat  tickled 
her  fancy. 

Shortly  after  the  party  rose  and  left  the  house, 
Hunky  Ben  remarking,  with  a  quiet  laugh,  that  deeds 
of  darkness  were  best  hatched  at  night. 

What  the  conspirators  hatched  became  pretty 
evident  next  day,  for,  during  the  breakfast  hour,  a 
band  of  forty  horsemen  rode  slowly  down  the  sloping 
road  which  led  to  the  plains,  and  on  the  side  of 
which  Crux  had  built  his  saloon. 

Crux  and  his  men  turned  out  in  some  surprise  to 
watch  the  cavalcade  as  it  passed.  Tlie  band  was 
led  by  Charlie  Brooke,  and  the  scout  rode  in  advance 
on  Black  Polly  as  guide. 

"  Is  it  the  Reds  or  the  Buffalo  you  're  after  to-day, 
Hunky,  with  such  a  big  crowd  ? "  asked  Crux. 

"  Halt !  "  cried  Charlie,  at  that  moment. 

The  forty  men  obeyed,  and,  turning  suddenly  to 
the  left,  faced  the  saloon. 

"  Hands  up ! "  said  Charlie,  whose  men  at  the 
same  moment  pointed  their  rifles  at  Crux  and  his 
men.  These  were  all  too  familiar  with  the  order  to 
dare  to  disobey  it. 

Our  hero  then  ordered  a  small  detachment  of  his 
men  to  enter  the  saloon  and  fetch  out  all  rifles  and 
pistols,  and  those  of  Crux's  people  who  chanced  to 
have   their  weapons   about   them   were   disarmed. 


your  fancy 
lat  ? " 

ave  on  the 
hat  tickled 

the  house, 
,  that  deeds 

me  pretty 
ast  hour,  a 
the  slojDing 
he  side  of 

surprise  to 

band  was 

in  advance 

'ter  to-day, 
irux. 

iddenly  to 

en  at  the 
X  and  his 
e  order  to 

ent  of  his 
rilles  and 
hanced  to 
disarmed. 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES.       41  9 

Another  detachment  went  off  to  the  stables  behind 
the  saloon. 

^JVhile  tl,ey  were  thus  engaged  Charlie  addressed 

"We  have  decided  to  expel  you,  Crux,  from  this 
towu,    he  said,  as  he  drew  an  envelope  from  his 
pocket.     "^Ye  have  tried  to  convince  you  that 
as  the  majonty  of  the  people  here  don't  want  yon 
It  IS  your  duty  to  go.    As  you  don't  seem  to  see 
this  we  now  take  the  law  into  our  own  hands     We 
love  fair-play,  however,  so  you  will  find  in  this 
envdope  a  cheque  which  we  have  reason  to  believe 
>s  fully  equal  to  the  value  of  your  saloon  and  all  its 
contents     Your  lost  time  and  trouble  is  your  own 
affair     As  you  came  without  invitation,  you  n.u.t 
go  without  compensation.    Here  are  your  rilles,  and 
revolvers  emptied  of  cartridges,  and  there  are  your 
horses  saddled."  ■' 

As  he  spoke,  one  detacliment  of  his  men  handed 
rifles  and  revolvers  to  the  party,  who  were  stricken 
dumb  with  amazement.  At  the  same  time,  their 
horses,  saddled  and  bridled,  were  led  to  the  front 
and  delivered  to  tliem. 

"We   have   no   provisions."   said   Crux,   at   last 

recovering  the  use  of  his  tongue;  "and  without 
ammunition  we  cannot  procure  any." 

"  That  has  been  provided  for."  said  our  hero 
turmng  to  Hunky  Ben. 

"Ay,  Crux"  said  the  scout,  "we  don't  want  to 
starve  you,  though  the  'arth  wouldn't  lose  much  if 


I(: 


( it  H 


m 


420 


CHARLIE  TO  THE  RESCUE  :  A  TALE 


we  did.  At  the  other  end  o'  the  lake,  about  five 
mile  from  here,  you  '11  find  a  red  rag  flyin'  at  the 
branch  of  a  tree.  In  the  hole  of  a  rock  close  beside 
it  you  '11  find  three  days'  provisions  for  you  and 
your  men,  an'  a  lot  of  ammunition." 

"  Now,  mount  and  go,"  said  Charlie,  "  and  if  you 
ever  show  face  here  again,  except  as  friends,  your 
blood  be  on  your  own  heads  ! " 

Crux  did  not  hesitate.  He  and  his  men  saw  that 
"the  game  was  up";  without  another  word  they 
mounted  their  horses  and  galloped  away. 

While  this  scene  was  being  enacted  a  dark 
creature,  with  darker  designs,  entered  the  drinking 
saloon  and  descended  to  the  cellar.  Finding  a 
spirit-cask  with  a  tap  in  it,  Buttercup  turned  it  on, 
then,  pulling  a  match-box  out  of  her  pocket  she 
muttered,  "  I  t'ink  de  hospitals  won't  git  much  ob  it!" 
and  applied  a  light.  The  effect  was  more  powerful 
than  she  had  expected.  The  spirit  blazed  up  with 
sudden  fury,  singeing  off  the  girl's  eyebrows  and 
lashes,  and  almost  blinding  her.  In  her  alarm  But- 
tercup dashed  up  to  the  saloon,  missed  her  way,  and 
found  herself  on  the  stair  leading  to  the  upper  floor. 
A  cloud  of  smoke  and  fire  forced  her  to  rush  up. 
She  went  to  the  window  and  yelled,  on  observing 
that  it  was  far  too  high  to  leap.  She  rushed  to 
another  window  and  howled  in  horror,  for  escape 
was  apparently  impossible. 

Charlie  heard  the  howl.  He  and  his  men  had 
retii'ed  to  a  safe  distance  when  the  fire  was  first  ob- 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES. 


421 


about  five 
in'  at  the 
ose  beside 
'  you  and 

and  if  you 
tends,  your 

in  saw  that 
word  they 

id  a  dark 
le  drinking 

Finding  a 
urned  it  on, 

pocket  she 
uuch  ob  it!" 
re  powerful 
zed  up  with 
ebrows  and 

alarm  But- 
ler  way,  and 

upper  floor. 

to  rush  up. 
)n  observing 

e  rushed  to 

■,  for  escape 

lis  men  had 
was  first  ob- 


served— thinking  the  place  empty — but  the  howl 
touched  a  chord  in  our  hero's  sympathetic  breast, 
which  was  ever  ready  to  vibrate.  From  whom  the 
howl  proceeded  mattered  little  or  nothing  to  Charlie 
Brooke.  Sufficient  that  it  was  the  cry  of  a  living 
being  in  distress.  He  sprang  at  once  through  the 
open  doorway  of  the  saloon,  through  which  was 
issuing  a  volume  of  thick  smoke  mingled  with  flame. 

"  God  help  him !  the  place  '11  blow  up  in  a  few 
minutes,"  cried  Hunky  Ben,  losing,  for  once,  his 
imperturbable  coolness,  and  rushing  wildly  after  his 
friend.  But  at  that  moment  the  thick  smoke  burst 
into  fierce  flame  and  drove  him  back. 

Charlie  sprang  up  the  staircase  three  steps  at  a 
time,  holding  his  breath  to  avoid  suffocation.  He 
reached  the  landing,  where  Buttercup  ran,  or,  rather, 
fell,  almost  fainting,  into  his  arms.  At  the  moment 
an  explosion  in  the  cellar  shook  the  building  to  its 
foundation,  and,  shattering  one  of  the  windows, 
caused  a  draught  of  air  to  drive  aside  the  smoke. 
Charlie  gasped  a  mouthful  of  air  and  looked  round. 
Flames  were  by  that  time  roaring  up  the  only  stair- 
case. A  glance  from  the  nearest  window  showed 
that  a  leap  thence  meant  broken  limbs,  if  not  death, 
to  both.  A  ladder  up  to  a  trap-door  suggested  an 
exit  by  the  roof.  It  might  only  lead  to  a  more 
terrible  leap,  but  meanwhile  it  offered  relief  from 
imminent  suffocation.  Charlie  bore  the  half-dead 
girl  to  the  top  rung,  and  found  the  trap-door  pad- 
locked, but  a  thrust  from  his   powerful   shoulder 


tf 


422 


ClfARTJE  TO  THE  RESCUE:    A  TALE 


wrenched  hasp  and  padlock  from  their  hold,  and 
next  moment  a  wild  cheer  greeted  him  as  he  stood 
on  a  corner  of  the  gable.  But  a  depth  of  forty  or 
fifty  feet  was  below  him  with  nothing  to  break  his 
fall  to  the  hard  earth. 

"  Jump ! "  yelled  one  of  the  onlookers.  "  No, 
don't ! "  cried  another,  "  you  '11  be  killed." 

"  Hold  your  noise,"  roared  Hunky  Ben,  "  and  lend 
a  hand  here — sharp ! — the  house  '11  blow  up  in  a 
minute." 

He  ran  as  he  spoke  towards  a  cart  which  was 
partly  filled  with  hay.  Seizing  the  trams  he  raised 
them.  Willing  hands  helped,  and  the  cart  was  run 
violently  up  against  the  gable — Hunky  shouting  to 
some  of  the  men  to  fetch  more  hay. 

But  there  was  no  time  for  that.  Another  ex- 
plosion took  place  inside  the  building,  which  Charlie 
knew  must  have  driven  in  the  sides  of  more  casks  and 
let  loose  fresh  fuel.  A  terrible  roar,  followed  by 
ominous  cracking  of  the  roof,  warned  him  that  there 
was  no  time  to  lose.  He  looked  steadily  at  the  cart 
for  a  moment  and  leaped  His  friends  held  their 
breath  as  the  pair  dc'  ended.  The  hay  would  not 
have  sufficed  to  ^  ik  the  fall  sufficiently,  but  happily 
the  cai  e.    When  they  came  down 

on   ^  jolt  the   bottom  gave   way. 

Crn-4*  ^  throi  ^n  it  the  pair  came  to  the  ground, 
heavily  inder  I,  but  uninjured ! 

The  fall,  which  almost  stui    ed  our  hero,  had  the 


hold,  and 
as  he  stood 

of  forty  or 
0  break  his 

:ers.     "  No, 

"  and  lend 
.V  up  in  a 

which  was 
s  he  raised 
rt  was  run 
houting  to 

lother  ex- 
ch  Charlie 
)  casks  and 
llowed  by 
that  there 
at  the  cart 
held  their 
vould  not 
Lit  happily 
Lme  down 
[ave  way. 
e  ground, 

',  had  the 


OF  THE  SEA  AND  THE  ROCKIES.       423 

curious  effect  of  reviving  Buttercup,  for  she  muttered 
something  to  tlie  effect  that  "  dat  was  a  mos'  drefful 
smash  "  as  they  convoyed  her  and  her  rescuer  from 
the  vicinity  of  danger. 

This  had  scarcely  been  done  when  the  house  blew 
lip— its  walls  were  driven  outwards,  its  roof  was 
blown  off,  its  bottles  were  shattered,  all  its  baleful 
contents  were  scattered  around,  and,  amid  an  ap- 
propriate  hurricane  of  blue  fire,  that  drinking  and 
gambling  saloon  was  blown  to  atoms. 

Would  that  a  like  fate  might  overtake  every 
similar  establishment  in  the  world  ! 

This  was  the  first  and  last  attempt  to  disturb  the 
peace  of  Sweetwater  Bluff.  It  is  said,  indeed,  that 
Crux  and  some  of  his  men  did,  long  afterwards,  make 
their  appearance  in  that  happy  and  flourishing  town, 
but  they  came  as  reformed  men,  not  as  foes— men' 
who  had  found  out  that  in  very  truth  sobriety  tends 
to  felicity,  that  honesty  is  the  best  policy,  and  that 
the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom. 


THE   END. 


Printed  by  T.  and  A,  Constable,  Printers  to  Her  Majesty, 
at  the  Edinburgh  University  Press. 


